Ignition
by steelcrash
Summary: After a one-night stand, Optimus Prime finds himself in a situation he never expected.
1. Chapter 1

Ignition

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Optimus Prime came out of recharge, avoiding onlining his optics. His head hurt, his processor was sluggish and a quick check of his internal chronometer showed it wasn't nearly as late has he thought. Obviously the high grade was wearing off, a particularly potent batch of hooch supplied by Perceptor and the twins. Then there was the stuff Kup had produced somewhere near the middle of the impromptu gathering. The stuff which lead to now. The part where he was sharing his berth the last mech he would've chosen.

Given circumstances, however, he knew he had. Several times already. And now he suddenly found himself looking up into a pair of optics. The mech looking down at him had an optic ridge raised in question.

:Everything OK?:

Optimus nodded.

:Good. Go back to sleep. You worry too much.:

The last comment was given with a quick, soft kiss, followed by the grinding of the other mech's frame into his own. Optimus didn't ignore the desire growing between them as his spark flared toward the other. How long had it been since he last lived in a moment?

Saturday morning. At least he thought it was morning. No. Not morning, Optimus reflected, once again checking his chronometer. Closer to noon local time. And the base was dead, from the looks of things. No NEST humans running about with their daily duties, and his Autobots were equally quiet. Disturbing. Prowl was supposed to be on duty in ops, so maybe he had things well in hand?

:Prowl:

:Yes?:

:Everything all right?:

:Fine. The Wreckers left this morning, a little later than planned, and Ratchet and I agreed considering how late the party went, to give everyone a break. Just once. With your permission, of course. I've made a few changes to the duty roster for the rest of the day, taking into account who didn't get overcharged last night. So you're off the rest of the day. Sir.:

:Carry on, Prowl. And thank you:

:You're always welcome:

Knowing when he wasn't needed, the Autobot leader went back to his quarters, crawled into his berth, falling into a deep recharge.

One week later

Ratchet waited until the med bay was cleared out to confront his leader with his findings. He needed privacy and a few moments to collect himself before he did something regretful. Like offlining his dear Prime with his favorite wrench. Permanently. Then he would miss the chance to redress the other Autobot for his current condition and stupidity. At least Optimus was stable, and he received the worst of the injuries from the latest tangle with the Decepticons. The medic's intakes hitched as he sighed. Why me? he thought, walking from his office.

Seeing the medic, Optimus swung his legs off the med berth, ready to leave, with Ratchet's permission, of course.

Ratchet looked down at him, arms crossed.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"To my quarters," Optimus said.

"In a few moments," Ratchet said. "There is something I need to tell you."

"I'm all right, aren't I? You completed my repairs," Optimus said.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Ratchet said.

"Then what's the matter?"

Ratchet decided the direct approach was best, so he spat it out.

"You're sparked," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Ignition

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

"Sparked?" Optimus said.

"Yes. Sparked," Ratchet answered.

"Ratchet, if this is a poor attempt at a joke. . ." Optimus said.

"I am not joking," Ratchet said. "I wouldn't joke about something like this. You are sparked. Carrying. Expecting a sparkling in, oh, give or take three months."

"You're sure?"

"I ran the scan three times," Ratchet said. "And my diagnostic equipment is not in need of repair. Everything in this med bay was checked, repaired or replaced during the month Red Alert and the Wreckers were here. You know that. You helped."

He looked at his leader. Optimus wouldn't meet his optics. Then he started to list to the side. Ratchet reached out a steadying hand. Maybe being blunt wasn't the best way to deliver the news.

"But it was only one night. . ." Optimus muttered.

"It only takes once," Ratchet said. "And I don't need to know who or where or how many times. That's your business. I do need to run a few more scans but we can do that tomorrow, after you've had a chance to get some recharge. And we need to continue this conversation when you're feeling up to it. Tomorrow, hopefully. All right?"

Optimus nodded in acceptance. Ratchet helped him to his feet, watching the other Autobot make his way slowly out of the med bay. That was going to be one interesting conversation.

88888

Staring up at the ceiling in his quarters wasn't very entertaining, nor recharge-inducing. Too many thoughts running through his head. Optimus Prime could not believe the news. He was sparked. That's what he got for a drunken night of pleasure with someone he barely knew. Someone he didn't even _know_, really. Designation and rank. And something of the other's reputation.

Someone safe. Someone he could spend a night with, not having to worry about the consequences, nor having to deal with them on a day to day basis. Someone who wouldn't be around long enough to make a difference. Wrong, he thought, finally drifting off to recharge.

88888

0800 Sunday morning. Ratchet expected Optimus, but not so early. Luckily, he was as ready as he could be.

"Good morning, Optimus," he said as the Autobot leader took a seat on one of the empty berths.

Optimus didn't reply.

"All right then," Ratchet said. "To begin, do you have any questions?"

"Can you remove the spark?" Optimus asked. "Couldn't one of the femmes be used as a surrogate?"

"If I'd known about it within a day or two of it being sparked, that could have been a viable option," Ratchet said. "But it's not now. If you don't want it, ending the gestation is always. . ."

"You will not terminate this spark," Optimus said, optics blazing.

"I was speaking rhetorically," Ratchet said. "So you want to keep it. Good. But do you know what you're in for? Mechs can and did carry quite frequently back on Cybertron. There is no reason why you can't have a successful gestation here on Earth. I've already prepared a couple of data pads for you with some information you should read-on gestational changes to your body, and on sparkling care. Also, I'm going to have to talk with Perceptor about getting the additives you'll need for you energon while you carry. I'll talk with him later today and see what we can come up with."

He handed over the data pads, clapping Optimus on the shoulder.

"Now, I just need to run a couple of deep scans to get a better idea of just how far along you are. Is that all right?" Ratchet said.

"Go ahead," Optimus said.

Ratchet produced a small scanner, holding it over his Prime's spark chamber, looking for the tiny spark signature. It took a few moments to find, and he watched the screen connected to the scanner as the image of the developing sparkling appeared. A little blip compared to the size of its creator's spark, but there it was, a bright ball of energy connected to the larger orb by an umbilicus, and partially obscured by the growing gestational sac and growing processor and spinal column.

"I'm guessing it's about a week old, correct? Given the size and development so far," Ratchet said, levelled his gaze on his leader waiting for an answer.

Optimus finally nodded. Ratchet raised an optic ridge in surprise. Interesting. That would put the conception date right around the party thrown for the Wreckers the night before they left. Not that he was going to ask his Prime about that aspect of his personal life. Quiet personal speculation, however, he was allowed, as medic and friend. He knew several of the Wreckers had turned heads on base during the month they were present, even a couple catching Optimus' optics. And Optimus wasn't saying anything. Not at all like his leader during a normal visit to the med bay. But this was hardly a typical visit. He switched the scanner off, putting it way.

"You have a healthy, developing sparking," Ratchet said. "Congratulations."

"Thanks, Ratchet," Optimus said.

"You're welcome," Ratchet said. "Get out of here. Go rest. Go think up names. Remember, you're off duty today. Medically enforced day off, thanks to your battle antics, and now that you're carrying."

88888

His office seemed like a nice place to be. Partly. Optimus spent part of the morning recharging, as ordered, then went to his office with the intention of catching up on his reports. However, his optics kept straying to the two pads Ratchet gave him, and eventually he found himself reading the Cybertronian equivalent of "What to Expect When You're Expecting." Interesting reading. Meant for bonded pairs. Not a soon-to-be single creator. He sighed, setting the data pad down on his desk, resting his head in his hands. An embarrassing situation for he, a Prime, to be in. And about to be made better by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up, seeing Ironhide walking in.

"I thought you were off today," Ironhide said. "It's a Sunday. Your usual day off, and I know Ratchet was on your case that you were to have today off because of the repairs he did last night. So are you asking for trouble?

"I was here reading," Optimus said. "Nothing else."

"Anything good?" Ironhide said.

"Nothing you would be interested in," Optimus said, subspacing the two data pads from Ratchet.

"Heard from Magnus?" he asked, switching the subject.

"He's grumbling about the crew," Ironhide said. "The usual. Looking forward to coming back in a couple of months. He already misses me."

"Why didn't you two tell me you were bonded?" Optimus said.

"You never asked," Ironhide said. "Besides, it was only a few days before Tyger Pax that we bonded. Then we left Cybertron in search of the Allspark and Magnus and the Wreckers stayed behind. But let's not talk about that. Come on. Get out of this office. There's a poker game going in the rec room, and you can come play."

Optimus started to retort, but the look in his friend's optics suggested he better come. A game would be a temporary distraction for his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Ignition

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Med bay. Again. Optimus Prime wanted to be as far away from the med bay as he could be, but he couldn't escape. Ratchet was talking about how they couldn't get the additives for his energon into a more palatable form, given his initial reaction to the mix-purging all over the med bay floor. The solution, for the moment, was daily injections until Perceptor came up with something better, or he could consult with the Wreckers medic, Red Alert, whichever came first.

". . .so first thing every morning, if that works," Ratchet finished. "And one more thing, I've been thinking, you do have another option besides trying to raise a sparkling by yourself. You could foster the sparkling with one of the bonded pairs."

He actually _looked_ at Ratchet that time. Not a bad idea. The Autobots had three bonded pairs in their ranks-Hound and Mirage, Prowl and Barricade and Ironhide and Ultra Magnus.

"I'll think about it," Optimus said.

"That's what you say to all my ideas," Ratchet said.

Optimus snorted, standing. "Come up with something better, and I might be more inclined to listen," he said.

"Touchy this morning, aren't we?" Ratchet asked.

Optimus wanted to tell the medic where he could stuff his opinion, but kept his mouth shut. Not recharging well and then having to deal with Ratchet first thing wasn't his idea of fun.

"Get out of here," Ratchet said, shoving his Prime toward the door.

Almost 1800 and time to get off duty. Although what he was going to do with himself the rest of the evening, Optimus didn't know. Jazz and the human second-in-command Graham were sponsoring movie night in the rec room at 1900. He thought about going, just to have something to do, and keep his mind off things he knew he should be thinking about. Like when he was going to have to tell the humans about his condition. He was now two weeks into the gestation, and it was going well so far, but Ratchet kept hinting he was going to pull him off active duty the closer he got to the sparkling's emergence date.

He shook it off. Ratchet was driving him nuts, but he had his best interests at spark. Also, thankfully, he hadn't asked about the sire. That was no one's business. No one's at all but his.

1800 now. He stood, stretched, set to go get his evening energon in the rec room and relax. No such luck, as he saw Ironhide coming down the corridor toward him.

"Where are you going?" Ironhide asked. "It's only 1800. Usually you're welded to your desk until somebody has to come pry your aft out of your seat."

"I thought I would take a break for once," Optimus said. "Anything wrong with that?"

"No, I guess not," Ironhide said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all," Optimus said, following his friend to the rec room.

They got their energon, taking a seat back in one of the corners. Ironhide wanted to have a little chat with his leader.

"I know we haven't had much of a chance to talk this week because we've both been busy, but there's something I want to ask. Is everything all right?" Ironhide said. And I've noticed you've been in the med bay first thing every morning for the past five days. That, to me, says something is up," Ironhide said.

"I don't want to talk about it," Optimus said.

Ironhide raised an optic ridge in surprise. No I'm fine, nothing's wrong. So something was going on.

"Missing one of the Wreckers?" Ironhide asked casually, hoping he might get an idea of what was bothering Optimus. A couple of them had caught Optimus' optic. Whether or not his friend did anything about it was another matter entirely.

"The crew's presence here is missed by everyone," Optimus said.

"Some more than others," Ironhide said, taking a sip of energon.

Optimus glared, prompting Ironhide to hide grin behind his energon container.

"Fine, I'll drop it if you don't want to talk about it right now," Ironhide said. "But I'll have it out of you one way or another."

He decided changing the subject was a good idea.

"Did you know the twins have another betting pool going on how long it will be before Jazz puts the moves on Wheeljack?"

He watched Optimus relax, tension melting from his frame. Now he confirmed something was going on with his friend, he was would have it out eventually. There would be time for it later.


	4. Chapter 4

Ignition

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Ratchet let himself into the quarters he shared with the twins. He'd missed movie night, thanks to Perceptor and a lab accident. Sideswipe grinned, seeing his mate.

"Late, as always," Sideswipe said. "You missed a good movie, but how's Percy doing?"

"He'll live," Ratchet answered, taking a seat on the berth by Sideswipe. "And I doubt a human movie is all that 'good.' What was this one about?"

"Zombies," Sideswipe said. He didn't mention the special surprise he had planned later that night for the base's human contingent, with the help of Mirage and Hound.

"Jazz and Graham picked a zombie movie?" Ratchet said. "I know Jazz has dubious taste, but. . .speaking of Jazz, I thought you two were going to spend some time together tonight."

"We were going to work on next month's movie night, but he said something about taking Wheeljack down to the beach and showing him a good time," Sideswipe said. "Or something like that."

"Jazz works fast," Ratchet said.

"You have no idea," Sideswipe answered. "It was his idea Wheeljack stay behind when the Wreckers left. He talked faster than Blurr when he convinced Ultra Magnus that we could use Wheeljack here more than they could on the Xantium, when they've had him all this time, and he was only here a month. And it's not like they don't have enough crew anyway. Oh yeah, before I forget, Sunny swapped shifts with Jazz tonight so he's on duty in ops so Jazz is taking his spot tomorrow night."

"Anything else I've missed tonight?" Ratchet said.

"Not much, except Prime came to the movie tonight," Sideswipe said. "That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about-is anything wrong with him because he's been in the med bay a lot, and you keep muttering about it in your recharge, and Prime has been. . .out of sorts the past couple of weeks. Even I can see that."

"He's fine, Sideswipe. It's late. We should get some recharge," Ratchet said, changing the subject.

88888

Certain aspects of Maj. William Lennox's career no longer surprised him. He knew Bobbie Epps had his back no matter what. Not at the moment. The airman was doubled over laughing while _he_ tried calming down his hysterical second-in-command, Ian Graham. Graham's ranting had momentarily subsided into hyperventilation. Somebody had scared the hell out of Graham and several other soldiers returning from the Autobot living quarters.

Something about zombie hordes lumbering toward the barracks, hot on their heels. Then they disappeared. Lennox had a few names on his short list, and he figured it could wait until morning to deal with the prank. It was no coincidence as far as he was concerned. Zombie movie, zombies on base. There would be Autobots reduced to scrap metal in the morning, and he'd help. No doubt Optimus Prime would be ripping heads off when he heard about it. The Autobot leader had been. . .touchy lately. His business, Lennox reflected, but he wasn't the only one who noticed. It could wait. Graham's hysterics weren't over yet.

88888

Optimus Prime stood outside to the door to the twins' quarters, watching and waiting for the forced removal of Sideswipe from the premises. He heard the yelp as the silver twin was roused from recharge, scraping as he was dragged outside into the corridor, struggling. The Autobot leader leveled his steely gaze on the Autobot in Prowl's grip.

"I'm sorry and it won't happen again," Sideswipe said.

"Sorry for what?" Optimus asked. He knew, but he wanted to hear it from Sideswipe.

"Well, this is about last night, right?" Sideswipe said. "The zombie thing."

"Yes, it is about the zombie 'thing,'" Optimus said. "I accept that pranks are a part of life on this base, but you went too far. Capt. Graham spent the night in the med bay, under sedation. Someone could have been harmed."

"Oops," Sideswipe muttered. "Those must've been some holos. . ."

"I'm leaving your punishment up to Prowl," Optimus said. "I'm sure he'll come up with something suitable."

Sideswipe snorted, earning himself a cold look from the other Autobot, who released him.

"See ya later, Prowlie," Sideswipe said, humor in his voice. But he became serious when addressing his Prime. "Optimus, I am sorry. I'll apologize to Maj. Lennox and Graham, if that's all right."

"That is perfectly acceptable," Optimus said. "You're free to go, for now."

Sideswipe turned back inside his quarters, leaving Prime and second in command alone in the corridor.

"His creativity knows no bounds," Optimus said. "I only wish we could turn it toward more constructive activities."

"I agree," Prowl said. "I'll work on that while I think about his punishment. By the way, that isn't my only project. . ."

He unsubspaced a data pad, handing it to Optimus.

"What's this?" Prime asked.

"The report you asked for regarding my recommendations on working members of the Wreckers into the duty roster," Prowl said. "Jazz and I have discussed it at length, and came up with some ideas I hope you approve. One will help diversify combat and weapons training, as well as tactics. Another idea Jazz and I both highly recommend is going back to the old three- or five-member combat units for special ops, which will allow us to utilize some of the specialized skills now at our disposal. I also think a couple of Magnus' crew would be suitable for training as officer candidates."

"I look forward to reading it, but you didn't have to finish it so soon," Optimus said. "The Xantium won't return for at least another six weeks."

"You assigned it to me three days after they arrived," Prowl said.

"I'm not keeping track," Optimus said. "And you've had other things to keep you busy. How are things going with Barricade?"

Prowl smiled. "Things between us are well," he said.

"I'm glad to hear it," Optimus said. "Before you go, don't be too hard on Sideswipe."

Prowl's smile turned into a rare grin. "I won't."


	5. Chapter 5

Ignition

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Optimus Prime did read Prowl's report. More than once. Those recommendations, if implemented, would mean working with certain members from the Wreckers on an almost daily basis. Something he wished to avoid, if he could. Or did he? No use worrying about it until they came back, he told himself. He wasn't a procrastinator by nature, but in this one case he was making an exception. He set Prowl's report down, picking up one of the two pads from Ratchet. He also needed to finish reading those, but something kept coming up. Like now, with Jazz suddenly leaning over his shoulder, looking down at what he had in his hands.

"Must be interesting reading, boss bot, if you don't notice somebody sneaking up on you," Jazz said, snatching the pad out of his leader's hands before the bigger mech could protest. An optic ridge went up in surprise when he saw what his leader was reading, but he recovered quickly. He had another reason, for the moment, to be in Prime's office.

"Uh, whatever you're about to hear from Prowl, it *was not* Wheeljack's fault," Jazz said. "I mean, he didn't start it. Bluestreak asked, and Wheeljack said he'd demonstrate, and that's how Blue ended up in the med bay-sheer youngling stupidity. No other reason. 'Cade, 'Hide and I had to pry Prowler off Wheeljack, and I hid his swords so Prowler can't use 'em to try and get even. Not that Prowler would get even, but being bonded to 'Cade has had some effect on his logic circuits. Ratch said he should be able to re-attach Blue's hand with no problem. It came off clean when it got severed."

"What?" Optimus asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, processing what he just heard.

"Accident. That's all. Ratch and Percy are working on Blue right now. It's not a big deal. He'll be fine," Jazz said.

"Wheeljack let Bluestreak touch his swords?" Optimus asked.

"Yeah," Jazz said. The less said, the better, and he'd already said too much. It looked like Wheeljack's former engineering mishaps now carried over into his combat skills.

"Where are Prowl and Wheeljack now?" Optimus said.

"'Jack's hiding in my quarters and Prowler's been, ah. . .restrained by Barricade," Jazz said.

"I want a status report on Bluestreak's condition when someone is able to give me an update," Optimus said.

"Sure," Jazz said. "Now that we got that covered, wanna tell me why you're reading up on sparkling care?"

"No reason," Optimus said, trying to act casual.

"Yeah, does no reason include daily visits to the med bay, increased energon consumption and you've been more quiet in the past two weeks than you've been since I've known you?" Jazz asked.

He watched Optimus' optics widen slightly. A reaction. Minute, but a even a tiny reaction showed his instincts were probably right.

"You're sparked, aren't you?" Jazz asked softly.

Optimus nodded.

"C'mon. Let's go down to the beach and talk," Jazz said.

88888

The conversation lasted late into the evening, well after the sun went down. Jazz stayed even after Optimus went back to the barracks. He had a lot to think about. His Prime, sparked. Plenty of details to work on before the sparkling's birth. Like who would be in command while Optimus was out. When and what would they tell the humans? And the question he guessed not even Ratchet asked Optimus-would he tell the mech who he sparked his offspring with? Jazz didn't ask who. That wasn't his business. Getting his Prime to confide he was carrying and having that conversation was more than enough.

Optimus Prime was a private mech. He had friends, but he didn't often share his personal side with them very often. That was one of the reasons he was a damn fine leader, but it was also a sore spot for someone like Jazz. Sharing burdens with friends was meant to make things easier, not worse. Tell that to his stubborn leader.

At least he'd also managed to get him to talk about something else, also. Jazz had dealt with the other two-thirds of the three responsible for the previous night's zombie "attack" on base. Hound and Mirage were properly dressed down for inappropriate use of their skills and Autobot technology. Not like either cared about a lecture. They'd do it again, if offered appropriate reward. Especially Mirage. Maybe he needed to put his special ops mechs through their paces if they were getting bored enough to help perpetuate pranks. He'd run it by Optimus on Monday. Primus knew the mech needed a day off.

88888

Monday morning. The briefing with Gen. Morshower was nearly over.

"Just a couple of more things, General," Optimus said, trying to finish up. "In approximately two months I will be taking some time off. I will explain later, if that is all right. Also, we will be implement anti-zombie measures on base by the end of the week. Capt. Graham and Maj. Lennox will be relieved to hear this, I'm sure."

He gave the two humans a sidelong glance. Graham turned red from embarrassment, and Lennox glared.

"What are you talking about?" Morshower asked.

"It's in my report," Optimus said. "Good day."

The screen went blank as the techs on the other end in Washington, D.C. cut the transmission.

The Autobot leader left the hangar, and two confused humans in his wake.

"Time off? What the hell is he talking about, time off?" Lennox said. "He better have a damn good reason."

"I'm sure he does, sir," Graham said.

"I think I'll go ask," Lennox said.

"Sir, Optimus has never been anything but honest and truthful with us, so doesn't he at least deserve some respect and privacy? Maybe it has nothing to do with anything we need to know right now," Graham said.

Lennox frowned. "I guess."


	6. Chapter 6

Ignition

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Cornering the Autobot leader regarding his requested "time off" proved harder than Lennox anticipated. The arrival of two new Autobots to Earth and the retrieval efforts took three days, and then there was Optimus Prime's reaction when he found out the identity of one-his former girlfriend, Elita-1. The Prime became downright taciturn when asked about her. Ironhide filled in the blanks about the femme, who, along with the other Autobot she arrieved brought their number on base to four. The other was a young femme called Moonracer. Arcee and Chromia were happy about having more females around.

So were some of the single, unattached mechs. Unable to talk to Optimus, Lennox discussed the issue of four femmes on base with the second in command, along with bringing up Optimus' reluctance to talk to anyone about anything.

Prowl reassured the human commander about the presence of more femmes.

"They won't let the mechs act like fools around them," Prowl said. "They will have no difficulty putting anyone giving them unwanted attention in his place. They are also seasoned veterans when it comes to fighting. Elita-1 once served as second in command of Optimus' unit. She'll do fine, and Moonracer is a sniper, like Bluestreak. As to Optimus' recent mood swings, I have no suggestions other than I will talk to him at first opportunity."

"Good," Lennox said. "I just want to know why he wants time off, how long it'll be. And he's just not been himself lately. . ."

"I'll get to the bottom of it," Prowl said.

"Moody" described Optimus perfectly. Considering the matter, Prowl thought, Prime had been out of sorts since after the Wreckers left. Maybe Jazz could shed some light on the matter before he confronted Optimus?

88888

To Optimus Prime, locking himself in his quarters sounded like an excellent idea. No one bothering him about reports, how he was feeling, or anything else. Except he couldn't. He was Prime, and Ratchet and Prowl would have Ironhide blow the door off his quarters before he could say "scraplets" if he did lock himself in. Three weeks into gestation and he was starting to feel a little ill, which made him unable to recharge and short-tempered. He knew the others were concerned because of the way he was acting.

Then there was Elita-1's arrival. He kept getting asked if they were going to pick up where they left off. Where they left off on Cybertron, during the war, when he became Prime, was to become friends. That's how he wanted it. He hadn't yet talked to Elita about it, but he was going to. Just as soon as he could stand without feeling he was going to purge his tank and all of his internals. He sat up on his berth, rubbing his chest armor over his spark.

"Little one, I'll be glad when you're done growing," he said. "I know that will be one among many complications. . .not that I think of you as a complication. . .I look forward to your presence among us, but I could do without the purging."

Ratchet couldn't do anything for the purging. That was one unpleasant aspect of carrying, and the medic said that when the sparkling was big enough to kick, that might be worse. Optimus doubted it. They physical aspects of carrying were the easiest to deal with. The emotional, not so much. Ratchet lectured him once, and only once, about how carrying was made easier when a pair was bonded. That conversation ended with his weapons onlined in Ratchet's face, with a warning to not mention that issue again.

He did not need a reminder he was carrying while not bonded, or even in a long-term relationship. His kind did not have the same issues humans sometimes had regarding the subject, but the physical and emotional trials of carrying were lessened across a bond. The joys and turmoil could be shared, the burdens halved.

Optimus knew he was in a situation of his own making. He was wise enough to admit he'd made a mistake, although a welcome one. He looked forward to his offspring's birth, but not to dealing with whether or not to tell the other creator. . .or creators of his sparkling of its existence. Well, he thought, the fact he had a sparkling was more than evidence enough to show _something _resulted from their night together.


	7. Chapter 7

Ignition

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Approaching Optimus after he was off duty was best, Prowl thought. He would be more relaxed, easier to. . .confront about his recent emotional state. A brief conversation with Jazz revealed nothing other than evasion when asked if he knew what was troubling their Prime. Jazz did know. He commended his friend for not revealing what he held in trust, but it was obviously information that could affect all of them, with the way even Sunstreaker had remarked on Optimus' behavior. If he was ill, or hurt, or troubled, it was his job as second-in-command to find out what it was, and what he could do to help rectify the matter.

He hit the chime at Optimus' door, waited. The door slid open, revealing Optimus sitting at his desk, arms crossed.

"What is it Prowl?" he asked, frowning, suggesting his subordinate had better have a good reason for bothering him when he was off duty. Not normal behavior from Optimus at all.

"I wanted to see how you're doing," Prowl said, deciding not to dally around with the issue. "You seem. . .stressed as of late, and I was wondering if there is anything I can do to help."

"Not unless you can turn back time," Optimus muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," Optimus said. "Since you've finally decided to ask, I might as well fill you in. You'll need to know anyway. Prowl, sit down."

Prowl raised an optic ridge in question, but took a seat on the edge of Prime's berth.

"I'm sparked. Carrying. The gestation is approximately three weeks in, and progressing normally," Optimus said. "I have clearance to carry out my normal duties until closer to the emergence date, and Ratchet and I have not discussed combat, should the need arise. Jazz already knows. He guessed it. No one else knows, except for Ratchet, Jazz and now you. I'm going to discuss it with the humans soon, but I haven't yet decided how to broach the subject with them."

He watched Prowl for any signs of a reaction, up to and including one of his infamous processor melt-downs. So far, he was greeted with silence and Prowl's mouth hanging open in surprise. He recovered quickly.

"I take it you decided to do something about that attraction issue we talked about last month?" Prowl said.

"Yes," Optimus said. "Not just the one, either."

Prowl's hand flew to his mouth. "Both?" he said. It came out in a squeak. Optimus stifled a grin. A very undignified reaction from his usually cool, calm, unflappable second.

"My office. Then your office, I think. Then my berth," he said.

Prowl's head was suddenly resting in his hands.

"Oh Primus, I did not need to know that," he said. "But it does explain the sorry state of my desk on that Monday morning. The one after the party. I thought Hound and Mirage had been at it again in there. . .but it was you. . .you have no shame. . ."

"I was overcharged, not really in control of myself. . ." Optimus said.

"Apparently," Prowl said. "Well, this explains a lot. . .congratulations, by the way. I hope you're happy with this, and when the Wreckers come back, I am going to make sure you do the right thing, and talk to both of them, if that's what you want. I can't say I approve, but that's your decision."

"I don't know if either of them will have me," Optimus said.

"You won't know until you try," Prowl said. "If that's all, I'm going. You can count on Barricade and I to help you if you need it."

"Thank you, Prowl," Optimus said, relieved. That conversation went better than he could have hoped.

88888

The bridge of the Xantium was quiet. For that, Ultra Magnus was thankful. He was in charge of the watch, taking his turn. Only fair, as commander of the Wreckers. However, he currently question his logic, given the personnel he was overseeing this shift. Springer sat at navigation, beside him, sat his brother, Hot Rod, on weapons. Those two drove him nuts, as much causing as much trouble for him as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe ever did. And Springer and Hot Rod were not twins. Just normal siblings, half-sibs at that. The only explanation Springer ever offered was the same femme carrier, different sires. Almost every day Ultra Magnus cursed the Pit-spawned fraggers who sired them.

The only other Wrecker on watch with them was Blurr, at communications. The speedster looked bored. Not that he blamed him. Planetary surveys _were_ boring. That was one of their current duties, surveying the Terran solar system for Decepticons, as well as energy sources the enemy could exploit. Tactical motives aside, the Autobots had a more personal agenda, one suggested by Magnus himself, an idea he did not think Optimus would approve, but he did-surveying the planetary system for a suitable future Autobot colony.

The number of moons surrounding the system's two largest gas giants had to have at least one satellite suitable for terraforming and colonization, with permission from the proper Earth authorities. At least that's what I keep telling myself, Magnus thought. Otherwise, the NEST base back on Earth was going to be very crowded when they got back.

Just past three weeks out, and already the crew wanted to head back to Earth. They all had their reasons. His own included missing Ironhide (already) and wanting to be planet-side again, just to get off the damn ship and walk on solid ground and have a real sky to look at. The grand tour of the Sol system, as Drift called it, was set to last at maybe six more weeks. Duty was the only thing keeping Magnus from turning the ship around and heading back to Earth, Decepticon ghosts and grand ideas of building a new Cybertron be damned. He and his Wreckers had been cooped up on the ship for far too long. The month they spent on Earth proved that.

Some of the crew, like himself and Kup, had been relieved and surprised to find familiar faces among the Autobots on Earth. The others were happy to find out they weren't the only ones surviving the exodus from Cybertron, and promptly set about getting to know the others. Some better than others, Magnus mused. A few of the crew were far too smug for their own good. And Wheeljack had even jumped ship to stay behind with Jazz. Proof his authority was slipping. He was almost ready to let Kup assume command of the Wreckers and be done with it. Or not. That would mean promotions all around, and those were coming, regardless of who was in charge. If they could survive two more months out in the black, he promised them no more roaming. It was Earth or nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

Ignition

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Working through his mid-day break wasn't anything new for Jazz. Trying to get ahead on his work was. He figured he might as well, with Wheeljack around, his duties, and Prime's condition. He was even half-expecting Prowl when he showed up in his office.

"Pull up a seat, Prowler," Jazz said, not looking up, making his friend wait a few minutes as he finished his report. He set his data pad aside. "Lemme guess-you had that talk with Optimus last night."

"Yes," Prowl said.

"And?" Jazz asked.

"I now know there will be a new addition to our ranks in the not-so-distant future," Prowl said.

"I've gotta ask-he say anything about the sire? He asked me a lot of questions about one of the Wreckers while they were here. . .that could be a possible issue. . .not with me or you, but some of the others might have something to say about it if they find out. . ."

"We discussed it at length, on more than one occasion," Prowl said.

"Obviously he did do something about it then," Jazz said. "I really thought he. . ."

"What?"

"Well, there was a couple of 'em he was interested in. . ."

"Optimus was a very busy mech the night of the party," Prowl said. "That's all I'm going to say. You can draw your own conclusion at that."

Nice. Prowl's way of telling him without actually telling him, confirming his suspicions.

"Well, one thing's for sure-when he wants something, Optimus sure ain't afraid of going after it," Jazz said.

Lennox walked down the corridor in the Autobot complex with Elita-1. The femme was charming. He could see why Optimus Prime was once involved with her, and why Ironhide spoke so highly of her. He was trying to gain some insight into why the Autobot leader was acting so. . .off lately.

"The pressures of leadership, stress, especially if Ratchet's on his case," Elita said. "I don't know. Maybe if the two of us pin his noble aft to the wall, we can get some answers. And he's been avoiding me. Maybe that has something to do with it. Even when we weren't together anymore, just friends, he always wanted my counsel. He'd talk to me when he felt he couldn't share his thoughts with anyone else-not Ironhide, Prowl, Kup or Magnus."

"Well, he's been like this almost a month now," Lennox said. "I've known him almost five years, and he's never, ever been like this. Close, like after Egypt, but not before or since."

"Let's go talk to him then. 'Jack said Optimus was heading for the med bay," Elita said.

They heard the raised voices before they even got to the med bay. Nothing could prepare femme and human for the sight of Prime and medic nose to nose yelling at each other.

"NOW you mention that? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I swear, you're only doing this to drive me crazy. . .I hope your sparkling drives you as nuts as you're driving me," Ratchet yelled.

"I'm driving you crazy?" Optimus countered. "You're not the one carrying right now. I hope Primus blesses you soon with a pair of twin femmes. Or Sideswipe and Sunstreaker find themselves both carrying *_your_* spawn, at the same time. Then come talk to *me* about crazy."

It was then he noticed they were not alone. Elita-1 had her hands on her hips, head tilted, a thoughtful look on her face. Lennox, beside her, was pale and clammy. He didn't say anything as he wilted to the floor.

"See what you've done now?" Ratchet said.


	9. Chapter 9

Ignition

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Graham reported to the med bay, as asked. The Autobot med bay. Something about Lennox currently being incapacitated, and removed to the human medical facilities on base. Upon arriving in the requested med bay, Graham witnessed Optimus Prime sitting on a berth, arms crossed, battle mask covering his face, optics blazing at Ratchet, who was trying to forcibly remove a struggling Elita-1 from the room.

"Aft head, if you don't take your hands off me right now. . .I need to talk to Optimus," she said, trying to change tactics.

"Later," Ratchet said, throwing the femme over his shoulder, taking three Autobot-sized steps past Graham, set Elita-1 down outside in the corridor, ordering the door shut and locked behind her.

"There. Now we won't be disturbed again," Ratchet said. "And Optimus can explain what's going on."

The gave Graham and Optimus a jovial look.

Graham ignored the part about Prime. Ratchet was much too gleeful for his own good.

"What happened to Maj. Lennox?" he asked.

"He collapsed," Ratchet said. "And as Lennox is currently incapacitated. . ."

"If Ratchet will excuse himself, I will explain. As momentary acting human commander of NEST, you deserve to know what's going on," Optimus said.

Ratchet humphed, heading toward his office. "Don't mind me," he said.

"Ratchet, leave before I do something I will not regret. Not a half-hour ago you were telling my system fluxes were going to cause emotional outbursts," Optimus said. "I'm sure Capt. Graham doesn't wish to watch one of my emotional outbursts directed at you. An outburst that could get quite violent."

"How do you expect me to avoid Elita-1?" Ratchet said.

"I'll deal with Elita later," Optimus said. "Remove yourself before I do it."

Ratchet muttered something unintelligible to human ears. Eliciting no response from his Prime, he left.

"Optimus, is everything all right?" Graham asked.

"No, but your concern is duly noted," Optimus said. "I must share some news. . .news that Maj. Lennox, unfortunately, found distressing."

Graham raised an eyebrow at that. Not much could phase his commanding officer.

"Captain, I am carrying. Sparked, if you know what that term means in Cybertronian culture," Optimus said.

"I do, sir," Graham said. "In other words, you're pregnant."

If Optimus was expecting a reaction, he received none from the stoic Scottish SAS officer.

"Congratulations," Graham offered. "I hope the rest of the Autobots receive this news with happiness."

"So do I, Graham, so do I," Optimus said.

88888

"I hate my job," Lennox said, sitting up on his bed in the NEST med bay, head resting in his hands. His second-in-command stood by the bed, at attention, resisting the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes at his commanding officer's antics.

A hallucination. Yes. That was it, Lennox thought. Optimus' whole carrying thing was nothing but a hallucination brought on by the heat and overwork.

"Optimus can't be. . .Ratchet's gotta be wrong," Lennox muttered.

"Afraid not, sir," Graham said, interrupting his blissful musings.

Lennox could not wrap his head around the news. Mechly Optimus Prime was having a kid. Pregnant. He was a mech. Male of his species. Pardoning the pun, a "prime" example of the male of his species. The best of what his species represented. Apparently that carried over to other things, too.

"He is carrying. Due in a little over two months, by Ratchet's reckoning," Graham said.

"You're taking this rather well," Lennox said.

"I paid attention during the biology lectures sir, obviously you did not," Graham said, the corners of his lips turned up in a slight smile. His commanding officer had no interest in their allies' reproductive physiology. Ratchet never really explained if it was just the femmes who were capable of carrying. Optimus Prime's condition clarified _that_ omission. Huh. He switched his attention back to Lennox's babbling. Payback for his babbling after the zombie incident, Graham mused.

"I did not need to know that. I really, really didn't," Lennox said. "I just need to know what, now why or how."

"Or who," Graham offered helpfully.

"I didn't say that," Lennox said. "That might explain a lot. Like what the hell was he thinking. That explains why he asked for time off. Maternity leave. . .paternity leave. Hell, I don't know. This is too messed up. . .but that only leaves one question-which one of us gets to tell Gen. Morshower?"

88888

Optimus sat on the sand on his favorite stretch of beach, watching the sun go down. Elita-1 sat beside him. No escaping the femme now she knew about his condition.

"So. . .want to talk about it?" Elita-1 asked after a long silence

He continued staring off into the distance.

"Embarrassed about it? Didn't think *you* would be the one carrying? I mean, it's not like you got overcharged and. . ."

He gave her a sheepish glance, then looked away.

"Oh. So you did. Sorry," she said. "About time, though, you did something like that. You're always wound so tight."

So high and mighty blessed by Primus took a day off from responsibility and consequence.

"Who's the lucky mech?" Elita asked.

Silence.

She stood, slapping him in the back of the head. "You are being more stubborn than usual," she said. "Talk."

"I have missed you," he said.

"Don't change the subject," Elita said.

"I'm not," Optimus said, glowering at the femme.

"That look won't work on me," she said. "Ironhide told me you were trying to make googly optics at a couple of Ultra Magnus' crew while they were here. Anyone I know?"

"No," Optimus said. "At least I don't think so."

Good. She was finally making some progress. Hmm. . .she'd seen the list of names of all the Wreckers. Some she'd never heard of, but a couple she knew by name and reputation only back on Cybertron.

"I'll start naming names. You nod, or say yes," Elita said. "Springer."

No response.

"Sandstorm. Blurr. Scoop. Red Alert. Topspin. Twin Twist. Topspin. Roadbuster."

Nothing.

Only a couple left that weren't Ultra Magnus and Kup.

"Drift."

Optimus gave a slight nod of his head.

Her optics widened, jaw dropping. The ex-Decepticon swordsman that terrified half the base just by walking by?

Optimus reached out, shutting her jaw gently with one finger.

"You forgot a name," he said.

"What?" Elita said.

"You forgot to mention one of the Wreckers," Optimus said.

"Hot Rod? What about him?"

Optimus raised an optic ridge, hoping the femme got his meaning.

"Him to? Two of the Wreckers? Wow. You work fast," Elita said. "You still surprise me. You in a trine. That is going to be one interesting sparkling."

88888


	10. Chapter 10

Ignition

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Graham sat on one of the picnic tables by the basketball court, feet resting on the bench, twisting his beret in his hands. With no one around, he could afford a few moments of uncertainty. Just what the hell were they going to tell Gen. Morshower? _He_ would volunteer to face the general with news of Prime's condition, if it came down to it, if it would save the Autobot leader's dignity and Lennox's pride. Then that would leave Morshower in a lurch, having to then reveal the news to Galloway, who in turn would have to tell the American president.

He didn't give a rat's ass about Galloway having to pass on the news. He was more concerned with Morshower, and the practical considerations Optimus' condition faced them with, and what Galloway would do when he found out. Having Optimus out for whatever time it took to birth his offspring, and recovery was no problem in his mind. They could cope, as they did whenever any NEST personnel, human or Cybertronian, were injured. He also doubted any of the Autobots would have a problem with lending Optimus a helping hand when he needed it. After all, the first sparkling born on their new homeworld, and the child of their Prime would be something special to them all.

All problems to deal with in the immediate future. At the moment, he wanted the respite of his bunk. Everything else could wait until morning.

A morning that came all too fast for some. Optimus Prime reluctantly rolled off his berth, thanks to the pounding on his door. 0630. Well before he had to report to Ratchet, or for duty. He opened the door, finding an irate Ironhide standing outside.

"Want to tell me _why_ Will spent the night in the human med bay, and what part you had in it? Ratchet told me I should talk to you. He said you could explain," Ironhide said. "And why do I get the feeling it has everything to do with your behavior since the Wreckers left?"

Optimus vented air, sighing. "Ironhide, sit down," he said. "You might as well know. . ."

"Know what? That you've been an aft the past few weeks? Avoiding everyone, including your closest friends, shutting yourself up in your quarters. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were moping because the Wreckers are gone."

"I. Do. Not. Mope." Optimus said, clipping each word, arms crossed.

"You're moping now," Ironhide said.

"Only because you woke me up early, and I need my rest," Optimus said.

"Since when?" Ironhide asked. "You're what the humans call a 'workaholic.' You and Prowl both, but he isn't so much anymore, being newly bonded. You don't have much of an excuse."

"I do now," Optimus muttered.

"What?" Ironhide said.

"Ironhide, shut up," Optimus snapped. "If you want to know why I've been so evasive lately, I'll tell you. I'm sparked."

Ironhide offlined and onlined his optics several times, a fair imitation of a human blink. He sat down on Optimus' berth.

"What?" he repeated.

"You heard me the first time," Optimus said. "I'm not repeating myself."

"Sparked? Then who. . ."

"The two Wreckers you told Elita I was making 'googly optics' at," Optimus said.

"But. . .that would mean. . ."

"I fragged 'em both," Optimus said. "And I did."

"Springer and Hot Rod?" Ironhide said.

"Hot Rod and Drift," Optimus said.

"The. . .the _Decepticon_?" Ironhide spluttered.

"_Former_ Decepticon," Optimus said.

"You're carrying."

"Yes," Optimus said.

"A sparkling possibly half-Decepticon," Ironhide said.

"Ironhide, Drift is not a Decepticon," Optimus said. "Otherwise, Ultra Magnus would not include him in his team."

"For your information, most of the Wreckers give him wide berth because he used to be a Decepticon," Ironhide said.

"'Hide, I'm not having this discussion right now," Optimus said. "I appreciate your concern, but the sire is my business. Don't you have someone else to harass right now?"

His patience was starting to wear thin, and he did not want to argue with Ironhide. For a few seconds, he toyed with mentioning the idea of calling the Wreckers back. That would get Ironhide off his back, and calm him down at the same time. Being reunited with his bondmate for only one human month was not nearly enough. Calling them back was also a decent threat, for many other reasons. But he didn't mention it.

"We'll discuss this later," Optimus said. "By the way, Lennox collapsed when he heard Ratchet and I arguing about my. . .condition. It's partly my fault he's in the med bay, and I'm sorry."

Ironhide's frown lessened. "I'll see you later," he said. "I'll drop by after we're off duty tonight, if that's all right."

Optimus nodded. One hurdle down.

88888

Another long day, and another argument with Ratchet, in public this time, over leading a combat mission to Canada. Optimus lost that one, but he used the situation as an opportunity to throw Elita-1 into the combat rotation, and getting Ironhide off his back at the same time. Elita was the Autobot in charge of the mission, co-leading with Graham, with Jazz and Ironhide backing them up, along with sending Hound, Mirage and Barricade.

He was going to have to let the rest of the Autobots know about his condition, and soon, from the looks he was getting after his fight with the medic. Damn Ratchet. He sighed. The medic was right. He just wasn't going to tell him that. Yet. He did not want to jeopardize his offspring in any way. A sparkling was something he had wanted for a very long time, and he was not going to let anything happen to it. No, this argument was a matter of pride, but Ratchet's pragmatism and will won out.

So he was nursing his wounded pride by hiding in his office, feet propped up, reading up on sparkling care. He looked up when the office door slid open. Prowl, walked in, empty-handed for once.

"You need to stop hiding," Prowl said. "The others know something is bothering you, and hiding is not helping the speculation and gossip go away. Barricade even asked before he left today if he should do something to quell the rumors."

"Why?" Optimus asked.

"He knows," Prowl said. "I didn't tell him, he guessed you're carrying."

Optimus sighed. "When do you think I should tell everyone?"

"Soon," Prowl said. "Whenever you're ready, not when you're feeling pressured. Besides, Chromia already suspects, and asked me as much, but I said nothing, so don't be surprised if she just barges in on you and asks."

"So much for my privacy," Optimus muttered.

"Your friends worry about you," Prowl said. "And you are being an aft-head."

"Thanks," Optimus said.

"You're welcome," Prowl said. "That aside, I am here to discuss a few matters, such as the Wreckers. I think you need to seriously consider my recommendations, especially in regard to officer training and special ops."

"As in regards to my personal life?" Optimus asked, arms crossed, one optic ridge raised.

"That too," Prowl said. "With the addition to the Wreckers to our forces, we double our population, and that gives us the ability to replicate our command structure using Ultra Magnus as commander. Kup will be relegated to security once he's here. He won't take no for an answer, and that is where his skills are best utilized. Springer is second-in-command of the Wreckers, but in my opinion, he'll make a better front-liner than officer material within our current command structure. Hot Rod would be an excellent future second-in-command for Ultra Magnus."

"Someone is going to have to train Hot Rod," Optimus said. "And I won't have time, for many reasons."

"My aft," Prowl said, crossing his arms. A sure sign he was settling in for an assault, Optimus mused. "You're best suited for this, for both personal and professional reasons. Hot Rod needs a steadying, calming influence. You can provide that."

"So can you, or Ultra Magnus," Optimus countered. "Besides, Kup will want him for security, also."

"Ultra Magnus is too inflexible," Prowl said. "I will work with Hot Rod, also, but Kup and I already decided Barricade is best for Kup's purposes when they return. He has the experience necessary for producing the best results in quickly shoring up base and planetary defenses against the Decepticons, not a hot-tempered, cocky youngling."

Optimus had no response.

"You just don't want to have to deal with him on a daily basis, do you?" Prowl asked.

Again, no answer.

"Did it ever occur to you that you that your sparkling might have two sires and not just one?" Prowl said. "I've been reading up, and producing a new spark so quickly suggests a highly compatible match, or two. You'd be a fool not to consider one, or both Hot Rod or Drift."

"You Praxians and your traditions," Optimus said.

"My own creators sparked me first, then bonded," Prowl said. "It was the quickest way they could prove they belonged together. Once they were sparked, neither of their creators could deny they weren't a productive, compatible match, and they sealed their bond. A successful pairing that produced three offspring. You Iaconians are too. . .hide-bound as the humans would say."

"How long did it take you to come up with this argument?" Optimus asked.

"Not as long as you think," Prowl said. "My battle computer and logic center are good for matters besides tactics."

"There is nothing logical about my situation," Optimus said.

"I never said there was," Prowl replied. "I'm merely suggesting you study all your options before making a decision regarding your future that you regret."


	11. Chapter 11

Ignition

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Optimus' tried pushing aside thoughts of his conversation with Prowl, but it wouldn't go away. Prowl did have a point-he could try and make a go with either Hot Rod or Drift, but would they have him? Attraction aside, he barely knew them both. And he wasn't Praxian, he wasn't going to bond with someone just because they had a sparkling.

Not that having a sparkling needed to lead to a bond, but in that. . .anything else would not feel. . .right. Not to him. One more thing to sort out. Optimus sighed. He'd managed to pick up a little knowledge about both Drift and Hot Rod during their short stay on Earth. Drift wasn't a mech of many words. He seemed quiet and reserved, always hanging back in a crowd. He was also a former Decepticon. Ultra Magnus never brought it up, and Kup only mentioned in passing.

The white mech also carried swords, a pair of short swords, and one of the great swords, something out of legend, forged in the likeness of the Sword of Prima, the first Prime. A weapon which formed a bond of sorts with its wielder's spark, something only which the purest of spark could carry. Someone who the bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, or the artifact itself did not reject. Nor did it disapprove of Hot Rod. The damn thing hardly spoke to him since the battle with the Fallen, but it positively _sang _when he interfaced with Hot Rod, and he knew it accepted Drift, also. A part of him wondered if the infernal thing had anything to do with him getting sparked, but that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

Hot Rod. Cocky, brash, hot-tempered. A pain in the aft. On the surface, the polar opposite of Drift, but he seemed loyal to his brother, and his friends. He pitched in when he was needed, without being asked, but he did bend the hell out of the rules before breaking them.

Both attractive, dangerous mechs. What was he going to do about them?

Hearing laughter out in the corridor, Optimus hung his head out his office door, rewarded with the sight of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker joking with Bluestreak. Hmm. . .maybe the young mech could give him some perspective on his earlier conversation with Prowl.

The twins sobered somewhat when they saw him. Bluestreak smiled.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker," Optimus said. "I hope you two are staying out of trouble."

"Trying," Sideswipe said.

"Yeah," Sunstreaker said, fidgeting. "Gotta go."

He dragged his twin away with him, leaving Optimus with Bluestreak.

"Blue, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you about something Prowl mentioned earlier," Optimus said.

"Sure," Bluestreak said, walking into his Prime's office. He sat down, making himself comfortable. "Ask away."

"Well, Prowl said something about your creators, how they had what he called a 'productive, compatible' match," Optimus said.

"And you were wondering what he meant by that," Bluestreak said.

"This isn't too personal a question?"

"No," Bluestreak said. "It doesn't bother me to talk about them, and don't let Prowl fool you. It was a good, successful match. Not just in the Praxian tradition, but in the ways that really count. My brother Streetwise said our creators couldn't keep their hands off each other. From the way it sounded, the human saying 'love at first sight' fit. Silverlight was a medic. She met our sire, Sledge, when he was practically blown up on a recon mission during the Kaon uprisings way before the start of the war. They hit it of, kind of, but she

was from one of the elite families, and they frowned on her attachment to a member of the defense forces.

They wanted to bond because they loved each other, but her family held to the traditions. His didn't as much, but they both knew it was the fastest way to get what they wanted. They were taking a chance, but she was sparked within a few weeks, and they had to let them bond. I once asked Silverlight how she knew Sledge was the right one and she said she just knew it was right. So don't let Prowl convince you he grew up with creators that anything less than a true bond."

That clarified that matter, Optimus thought.

"Want to talk about anything else?" Bluestreak asked.

"No, that's what I wanted to know," Optimus said. "Thank you, Bluestreak."

"No problem," the younger mech said. "Prowl's so stuffy sometimes, but he's loosening up a bit more since he bonded with 'Cade. Makes my life easier, too. He doesn't have as much time to make sure I'm staying out of trouble."

Optimus crossed his arms, leaning back against his desk, optic ridge raised.

"And are you keeping out of mischief?" he asked, mirth dancing in his optics.

"Maybe," Bluestreak said. "Sir."

"Go rain some chaos down on your brother," Optimus said. "Primus knows he needs it."

"Is that an order?" Bluestreak said.

"Take it as you like," Optimus said, smiling, watching the younger mech tear out of his office. No doubt there would be hell to pay in the morning, but he would happily deal with it.

88888

One hand ghosted along his spoiler, another over the armor seam in the middle of his chest, coaxing him to open. The heavy, but not unpleasant weight of the other mech pinning him to the desk. Murmurs of slurred Ancient in his audio, promises of what was to come. . .

Pounding. Not his head, like the morning after the desk incident. _Desks_, he reminded himself, but someone at his door. Hot Rod rolled off his berth, annoyed. He'd pulled a double shift and then some, the day before, piloting one of the Xantium's shuttles, hauling Red Alert around for a look at the moons of the gas giant the humans called Jupiter. The medic was the closest thing they had to an actual scientist on board, and Hot Rod was ordered to ferry duty because he was one of the few the medic would put up with.

Ultra Magnus was pushing them all harder than usual, promising if they could get the planetary sweep and patrol complete ahead of schedule, they would head back to Earth sooner. Hot Rod didn't know how he felt about that, shoving the notion aside to deal with whoever was at his door, the slagger who interrupted a great dream.

The door slid open. Blurr.

"You're late," the speedster said. "It's 0537, and Red Alert sent me to find you. You were supposed to have launched seven minutes ago."

Hot Rod checked his internal chronometer. Yup. 0537 and counting. They'd already adopted human time measurements, but that wasn't going to keep him from getting a reaming from the femme.

"How about I help Kup with the weapons calibrations, and you can pilot the shuttle?" Hot Rod asked.

"No offense, Rodi, but I can get it done faster," Blurr said.

"And the faster we finish, the sooner we can head back to Earth," Hot Rod said. "I know. You just want to see that gunner again. Spring keeps talking about Arcee."

"Yeah," Blurr said. "I'd really like to see Bluestreak again. What about you? Anyone you're looking forward to seeing when we get back?"

Hot Rod was about to answer when he looked past Blurr, seeing Drift walking up.

"Maybe," he said, knowing there could be any number of reasons why Drift was present, or not.

"I'd better go," Hot Rod said. "Don't want to be any later than I already am."

Blurr nodded, walking off in the direction he came. Hot Rod started walking, too, Drift falling into step beside him.

"When you get back, I'd like to talk," Drift said.

"It might be late," Hot Rod said.

"That's fine by me," Drift said. "I'll come find you when you return."

The white mech turned and walked away.

"Whatever," Hot Rod muttered.


	12. Chapter 12

Ignition

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Hot Rod was bored. The shuttle was on autopilot, and he was keeping one optic on the control panel. If there was room, he would've sat back and propped his feet up on on the console. Easy, boring flying for a top-notch pilot like himself, but there wasn't room. Red Alert sat beside him in the co-pilot's seat, data pad in one hand, stylus in the other, furiously taking down notes.

"What are you doing?" Hot Rod said. "Writing a report? You're supposed to be going over the telemetry from the moons we're scouting."

"I can look at it back on the Xantium," Red Alert said. "If you must know, I'm starting to write down my recommendations for Ultra Magnus. A couple of these moons are promising, but. . ."

"If you're going to tell me this survey was a waste of time. . ." Hot Rod started.

"I'm not. It only confirms what I've thought since we surveyed Mars," the femme said. "It would better serve our purposes. Or possibly Iapetus, but I'll have to share the data with Perceptor. On the other hand, this system is ripe for the picking with so many natural resources, and the Decepticons haven't touched any of it."

The femme did have a point there. The Sol system had so many untapped sources of energy and other materials, and the Decepticons hadn't exploited an inch of it. A disturbing thought. Maybe the thought hadn't occurred to them yet, or maybe they didn't have the numbers to do anything about it. But if the Autobots could get a foothold in this system, they could help the humans protect what was theirs, as well as share in the bounty. Maybe life with the organics wouldn't be so bad after all.

88888

Hot Rod sat through Red Alert's preliminary talk with Magnus, annoyed and flattered that his commander wanted _his_ input. But thankfully, Magnus let him go after a couple of hours, allowing him to hit the wash racks and grab some energon. Springer was in charge of the watch this shift, so he had their quarters to himself. Hot Rod figured if Drift wanted to talk, he'd come find him, like he said he would. And he wasn't proven wrong. Drift appeared at his door not long after he made it back to his quarters.

Hot Rod let the other mech inside.

"How did the survey go?" Drift asked, taking a seat on Springer's berth.

Hot Rod shrugged. "Red's got all the data she needs, I think," he said. "But let's cut the small talk. Why are you here?"

Drift expected that. Hot Rod's short fuse was infamous among the crew. A retort wasn't what was needed right now. It had taken him most of the month since they left Earth to work up the mettle to come talk to Hot Rod. Drift didn't fear the younger mech's temper. He liked and respected Hot Rod. No, his reluctance had more to do with his own reservations regarding events taking place before they left Earth, and just where he'd stand, what chances he'd have once he talked to Hot Rod.

And Hot Rod, contrary to popular belief, was not stupid, or ignorant.

"Does this have anything to do with. . .the proposition we both received the night before we left?" he said.

Drift nodded.

"So?" Hot Rod asked.

"What, if anything, is going to be done about it once we're back on Earth?" Drift said.

"That depends on lot of things," Hot Rod answered. "I guess. . .I don't know."

He sat down across from Drift. The other mech's question was a good one.

"Did Prime manage to get you alone?" Drift asked, arms crossed, one corner of his mouth turned up, giving Hot Rod a wry look.

"Cornered's more like it," Hot Rod muttered. "What about you?"

"Yes," he answered. So they both 'faced Prime. Well, that gave credence to the legendary stamina of the Primes, Drift thought.

"Y'know," Hot Rod said, leaning back against the wall, "I think maybe we should've just given into his request when he asked both of us to his quarters. So if you're asking what I'm going to do when we get back to Earth, I think we should both talk to Prime and see where things go from there."

Drift was silent for a moment. A fair way to go about things. But he had one more question.

"It doesn't bother you he asked me, too?" Drift said.

"Why should it? You're one of us, an Autobot, a brother-in-arms. What and who you were before joining the Wreckers is dead, same as the rest of us. We all have a past, even Spring and me. There's a reason why we, all of us on this ship are Wreckers. Never forget that," Hot Rod said.

88888

Ironhide was sullen; Barricade kept pushing his buttons. Even in Cybertronian, it was clear what was going on. Elita-1 kept getting between the two mechs. Jazz just hung back, arms crossed, a smile on his face. Mirage and Hound ignored them, quietly talking with Epps about whatever it was they found to discuss.

Graham closed his eyes, imagining he was at home, in the Highlands, on his favorite trail. One of his happy places. Nope, not working. He knew Ironhide knew about Optimus' condition. Apparently, so did Barricade, from the few words exchanged in English.

"If you two don't shut up, I'm going to rip out your interface arrays and feed them to the birds," Elita-1 said.

Human eyes and Cybertronian optics diverted to the two grumbling mechs who had suddenly distanced themselves from the femme.

"There. That's better," Elita said. She smacked Barricade on the shoulder. "Keep your mouth shut about things you're not supposed to know about, or I'll put Optimus on your case. Or I'll just make something up and ask if I can come up with a suitable punishment."

Barricade frowned, red optics flaring brightly for a second while he commed the femme. Graham knew that much from the way both suddenly fell silent. A split second later, the femme onlined one of her smaller weapons, shooting Barricade in the shoulder.

"That's a warning," she said. "I'm not putting up with anymore of this nonsense. 'Cade, don't say another word until we're back on base. That is an order."

The mech stepped back, rubbing his shoulder, grinning when the femme turned her attention to Ironhide.

"And you-quit moping," she said. "Nothing is going to change that much. I'll be glad when Magnus gets back. You'll quit being so moody. So, are you little femmlings done with your cat fight?"

Graham had to bite back a grin. The femme had her arms crossed, tapping one foot on the ground, just like an exasperated human female would in a similar situation. And the look on Ironhide's face at being called a 'femmling' was one he would never forget. Fortunately, Epps managed to preserve the image for posterity, whipping out his cell phone, snapping an image before Ironhide could complain.

"All right-everyone, let's go," Graham said, grateful to finally be heading back home. The mission wasn't a complete failure-they'd destroyed one Decepticon, but not before learning there were more Autobots headed toward Earth in the near future. He was also proud that Elita-1 had done so well, more than holding her own with the mechs. Just one of many things to put in his next report, he reflected as he boarded the plane.

88888

"Quit fidgeting or I'm never going to get this scan done," Ratchet said, holding Optimus Prime down to the berth by one shoulder. "I need a few more seconds. . . "

Optimus vented air in a sigh, holding still for the medic.

"There," Ratchet said, putting away the scanner. "Done. You have a healthy, growing sparkling. Everything is going fine."

"Any questions?"

"It is just one protoform, correct?" Optimus asked.

"As far as I can tell," Ratchet said. "This diagnostic equipment wasn't meant for perinatal scans and treatment. Not to mention the way it's currently positioned, and I'm fairly sure the damn thing you insist on carrying is having an effect on the scans."

"The Matrix was meant to be carried by a Prime," Optimus said.

"And if you don't unload it soon, there's not going to be a lot of room left for a growing protoform," Ratchet snapped. "You don't exactly have a lot of room in there anyway as it is."

"You told me no 'cracking my armor' for anyone or anything short of a medical emergency involving myself or my sparkling until its emergence," Optimus said.

Damn. The slagger had him there.

"The Matrix is not very big," Optimus said.

"No, not compared to the sparkling you're carrying," Ratchet said. He didn't mention it looked big for one protoform, but he was sure it was one. He would be able to tell for sure when he could get Optimus into the Xantium's med bay.

"Now we've settled that for the moment, there's another matter we have yet to discuss," Ratchet said, sitting back on his stool, arms crossed.

"Which is?" Optimus said.

"You. Slagging two mechs at the same time," Ratchet said.

Optimus started to protest, but a look at the medic silenced him.

"One or both could be the sire," Ratchet said. "Are you prepared to deal with that situation?"

"I already plan on talking to them when they return," Optimus said.

"Good," Ratchet said. "Now get out. Oh, wait. . .one more thing-you should start to feel movement within a few days. I just want you to be ready, because with your luck and mine, that sparkling will probably wake you up out of recharge by turning, or kicking. If that's the case, don't be afraid. It's normal."

Optimus got off the berth, walking out of the med bay as fast as his dignity would allow. Ratchet watched him go. For once, he had a valid reason to kick Prime out, besides his normal annoyance. He asked Wheeljack and Perceptor for their help putting together some of the things needed for a sparkling-like a berth, toys, and other items. He didn't tell them anything beyond what they needed to know, just that those things were needed, just in case. One less thing Optimus would have to worry about.


	13. Chapter 13

Ignition

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Ratchet was wrong, Optimus reflected. The first movements from his sparkling didn't wake him from recharge. It happened during the morning briefing with Gen. Morshower, starting with a faint flutter across his spark, then a stronger fluttering sensation. Lennox was talking, so he didn't notice the look on Optimus' face first. Jazz did, however.

:You feeling all right?: Jazz commed, concerned.

:I felt the sparkling move for the first time: Optimus said, hand on his chest.

". . .so I'll turn you over to Optimus," Lennox said, turning around, trying to cue the Autobot leader to give his report, but he wasn't listening, or looking. He was looking at Jazz, an his expressions somewhere between amazement and bewilderment. "Or not. Gen. Morshower, we'll get back to you later."

Lennox glared at the techs, hoping they'd get the message to cut the transmission.

"OK, what's going on?" he asked, swatting Optimus on the leg, hoping to get the big mech's attention once they were outside and away from everyone else.

"I just felt my sparkling move," Optimus said.

"Really?" Lennox said, at a loss for words. Optimus looked happy. Truly happy, so there wasn't much he could say. "Uh. . .how's he. . .or she doing?"

"Growing," Optimus said. "And as yet, I'm unaware if the protoform is a mech or femme."

"Have you told the other. . .creator yet?" Lennox asked, knowing he was in uncharted territory.

"Not yet," Optimus said.

"What about Gen. Morshower? When are you planning on telling him?" Lennox asked, seizing the opportunity.

"I'm still trying to decide how to broach the subject with the general," Optimus said. "Capt. Lennox, do not worry. The responsibility for passing along news of my condition is not something I will pass on to another. That is my duty, my responsibility."

Lennox let out a sigh of relief. "That's good to know, but it's not Gen. Morshower I'm worried about. Can you imagine the hissy fit Galloway's going to throw when he finds out?"

Optimus had, more than once. Apparently, so had Lennox, from the look on his face.

"Maybe we can just say you're on medical leave when you have the kid, and he doesn't have to know until after it's already been born," Lennox said. "It's none of his damn business anyway. I mean, it's your personal life, but it does impact our short-term operational status. . ."

"Which will not be much of an impact because Ultra Magnus and the Wreckers will be back by then, barring any unforeseen circumstances, and I've already been working on a duty roster, based on Prowl's recommendations, that will be in affect once they return. We will not be left short-handed," Optimus said emphatically.

"Good," Lennox said. "I know I can always depend on you. But look, don't overwork yourself, or get too stressed out. It's not good when you're. . .pregnant, or carrying or whatever. Take it easy, all right? As much as you can."

"I'll try," Optimus said.

Lennox smiled, taking off toward the barracks, thinking. Maybe there was something they could do. . .

88888

A couple of hours later Lennox sat at his desk in the cubby hole designated as his office, Graham perched on the side of the desk, arms crossed, listening intently to his commanding officer.

"Maybe we can just push through the paternity leave paperwork before anyone says anything," Lennox said, looking down at the forms in front of him. The Army allowed 10 days for paternity leave, so he was going to try and see if they could get that approved for Optimus. He didn't see Epps turn the corner into his office, so intent was he on what he was talking about.

"Who's gonna be a daddy?" the airman asked. From the look on Lennox's face, probably not him. He switched to Graham. Nope. Not likely. The Scottish soldier was single, and likely to stay that way, considering how he never took leave.

Will did look panicked suddenly. Not like he did when he found out Sarah was pregnant with Annabelle, but close. So that begged the question if it wasn't the two officers in front of him, who was it?

"Nobody," Lennox said. "Forget I said anything."

Epps met Graham's gaze. The Scot peered back, straight-faced. There was a reason why everybody lost at poker against Graham.

"C'mon," Epps said. "Who? Somebody do something they're not supposed to?"

Lennox didn't say a word, just looked at Graham for help.

"He's going to have to know eventually," he said.

Lennox sighed, sitting back in his chair. "OK, but this is classified, all right?"

"I'm not gonna tell a soul," Epps said. "What do you take me for?"

"I'm trying to get paternity leave for Optimus," Lennox said, hoping his friend would understand.

"Optimus? Really?" Epps said. Huh. That was interesting. "Who'd he hook up with? Arcee? Elita-1? I bet he's happy. . ."

Wait. Not Elita. Couldn't be. She'd just lead a combat mission, and he couldn't see any of the Autobots, let alone Prime letting an expectant femme into combat. Arcee then?

"It's Optimus," Lennox said, so softly Epps wasn't sure he heard right.

"I know it's Optimus," Epps said. "But who'd he knock up?"

"Nobody, jackass," Lennox said, standing. "It's Optimus who's expecting. Optimus Prime. Autobot leader. Prime. Mech. Male. *He's* the one who's knocked up."

_Oh._

Graham watched as the news sank in. Epps sat down.

"Whoa," Epps said.

"Yeah," Lennox said. "And remember-you cannot breathe a word of this to anyone. We haven't told Morshower yet, we're going to, but we need to figure out a way around Galloway."

"Have fun with that," Epps said, not wanting to stick around for that part of the conversation. "Gotta go. I have weapons practice with Ironhide this afternoon."

"He took that well," Graham said.

"Better than I did," Lennox said. "Better than you took the zombies. . .speaking of that, has Sideswipe faced any disciplinary action for that yet?"

"No," Graham said. "But I understand Prowl has been put in charge of coming up with something suitable."

Lennox perked up at that. At least everything wasn't going to hell.

"Got anything else to report?" he asked.

"Nothing," Graham said. "I do have a question-I was wondering if we shouldn't do something for Optimus since he's expecting?"

"What, like a baby shower?" Lennox asked.

"Not really-just an appropriate gift," Graham said.

Lennox shrugged. Sure. Why not? It was the least they could do, considering all Optimus had done for them. "Go ahead," he said. "Just let me know what you come up with."

Graham nodded, taking his leave. He had a few ideas already.


	14. Chapter 14

Ignition

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

To: Gen. Glen A. Morshower; glen..

From: Optimus Prime; .mil

Gen. Morshower, I must inform you of a condition that will require a temporary leave of absence on my part in approximately six weeks. It is a matter I would rather discuss in private, at your convenience. Setting up a private teleconference on my end should prove no difficulty. Please let me know when an appropriate time can be arranged.

Sincerely,

Optimus Prime

Short and sweet. Morshower stared at the e-mail, wondering what the hell was wrong with Optimus, but the Autobot leader wouldn't be asking for time off without a very good reason. He e-mailed Prime back with a time he hoped would work. Galloway would have to be informed eventually of the Autobot's request, but the general wasn't going to get the national security advisor involved until he knew just what was going on with Optimus. No point in opening that can of worms until they had to.

88888

Two days later, Optimus sat in his office, waiting for his conference call with Gen. Morshower. Jazz commed him, letting him know the call was coming through. The Autobot leader steeled himself for the coming conversation.

"General, how are you?" Optimus asked.

"Fine, Optimus," Morshower said. "Are you doing all right?"

"I'm well," Optimus answered.

"Good," Morshower said. "About that e-mail you sent-Optimus, I'd be glad to approve your request for leave, but I'll need to know how long you're needing, and what for. I don't mean to pry, but. . ."

"It has to be justified," Optimus said. "I understand, and I have good reason to ask for time off. Otherwise, I would not. General, I'm carrying."

"Say again?" Morshower said. He thought he heard it right the first time, but he wanted to make sure.

"I am sparked, carrying an offspring due in approximately six weeks," Optimus said.

"That's what I thought you said," Morshower said. He knew full well Optimus meant, and the implications. "Congratulations. How long will you need off? Considering circumstances, the basic 10 days for paternity leave might be all I can do, but I'll do my best."

"Anything you can grant will be appreciated," Optimus said. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Morshower said. "Contact me if you have any other concerns."

The conversation terminated, Optimus felt relieved. At least that was done. He stood, walking out of his office, not at all surprised at finding Lennox waiting outside.

"How'd he take it?" Lennox asked.

"Much better than I expected," Optimus said.

"What about time off?"

"He's going to see what he can do," Optimus replied.

"He say anything about Galloway?" Lennox said.

"No, and neither did I," Optimus said.

"We'll deal with that jackass when we have to," Lennox said. "And not a moment before. Look, I'm glad that went well. Gotta go see what trouble Epps is brewing up now."

Optimus watched the human take off at a jog, relieved. He was glad the general took his news well, and Lennox was becoming more accepting. Lately, things were going better than expected, quiet. No Decepticons, no trouble from Galloway, and no word from the Wreckers. And that made him uneasy. Maybe it was just nerves, as the humans said. Carrying was making him more emotional, among other side effects. He pushed it from his mind. He had work to do, and he, along with the others, would deal with any difficulties that came their way.

88888

"Surprised" didn't cover the reaction of NEST's command crew, the Pentagon or NORAD when the radar blip that was the Xantium just showed up the next Saturday morning, three days after Optimus' talk with Morshwer. One moment there was nothing in the air space over Diego Garcia, the next, the battle cruiser popped onto the radar, but only for a few seconds before it was cloaked. Ultra Magnus explained the ship couldn't be jumped while it was cloaked-too much of an energy drain, so they jumped, then cloaked the ship, which at the moment, was occupying the space above the island's entrance channel.

"I told you we'd be back sooner than anticipated," Ultra Magnus said, following Optimus outside the hangar serving as the joint communications hub.

"I didn't expect you to pull a stunt like that. What were you thinking?" Optimus said, hands on hips, optic ridge cocked, agitated. "Now Galloway's going to be asking for access to our technology.

"I've been thinking about that, and I think I might have found a solution," Magnus said. "We don't have to give them access to our weapons, but what if we let them use something like our bridge technology?"

"We don't have the manufacturing capability," Optimus said. "And you and I both know preliminary tests with our teleportation technology showed it would be fatal to humans."

"I know," Magnus said. "But we have onboard the Xantium portal generators, which could be utilized to set up a ground bridge here on base."

Optimus frowned, backing down a little. It was still dark outside, he was tired, not recharging well thanks to his offspring, which apparently, was as annoyed as he was. The sparkling delivered a particularly vicious kick. He winced, almost doubling over from it. Magnus reached out a steadying hand.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Optimus said. "It's nothing."

"Nothing, my aft," Magnus said. "Ratchet said you've taken a beating the past couple of years, and haven't even tried taking it easy."

"I'm trying now," Optimus said.

"Since when?" Magnus asked, arms crossed.

"I have a very good reason, Magnus, one I will discuss with you, but not until I've had a few hours of recharge," Optimus said, not adding the part he was thinking. The part about ripping off Magnus' head and drop-kicking it into a nearby lagoon. Magnus was one of his closest friends, but Optimus' usually legendary patience was running out. The sparkling kicked again, not as hard this time, but enough to make him rub the armor over the spot. The growing protoform had reached the point where most of its progression was geared toward growing and motor development.

Magnus noted the look on his friend's face-Optimus looked bewildered, quite a change from his anger and agitation moments before.

"Something is wrong," Magnus said.

Telling Magnus about his condition was not an option at the moment. Especially when he knew how Magnus would take it-his Prime fragging two of his crew in one night. It wasn't just that they were under Magnus' command-it was the bit about fraternization with subordinates that would set him off. Optimus tended to look the other way when it came to such things. As long as no one let their relationships interfere with their duty, it was allowed. And to some extent, the friendships and relationships among his Autobots were what allowed them to do their jobs so well.

He wasn't even going to think about the fact Hot Rod and Drift were a few hundred yards away on the Xantium. Slag. When he was feeling more up to it, Optimus was going to give Magnus a nice long lecture on protocol and decorum. Something he was lacking at the moment, but he didn't care.

"Magnus, go find Ironhide," Optimus said. "Seeing your bondmate, at the moment, trumps anything else that might be going on."

"Short of my team abandoning ship," Magnus said.

"Kup will keep that from happening," Optimus said. "Don't make me tell you again-go find Ironhide before I drag your aft to his quarters. As of right now, you're off duty for the next 72 hours."

"You. . ."

"I'm Prime. I can, and I will. Frag it all, Magnus. . .when was the last time you took a day off, or let your crew, for that matter?" Optimus said.

"Do I need to remind you?"

Oh. That. Right. The night of the party.

"The crew's still talking about it," Magnus said. He vented air, sighing. "You're right, though, they could use a couple of days off. Now that we're going to be here on a more permanent basis, it's going to take some adjustment. And half the crew's just itching to get off the ship. Springer wants to see that femme he's interested in, and Blurr said something about spending time with Prowl's brother. That reminds me-how's Jazz fairing with Wheeljack?"

"Better than anyone could have hoped," Optimus said. "He hasn't had time to blow anything up because Ratchet's had him and Perceptor busy working on some project, and Jazz does seem quite taken with him."

"Good," Magnus said. "I'll see you later."

Optimus watched his friend head off toward the living quarters. Ironhide was in for a surprise. The Autobot leader allowed himself a few moments of envy. He was glad his friends had each other. He only hoped he could have such a relationship of his own.


	15. Chapter 15

Ignition

Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

1000. Optimus Prime rolled off his berth, heading toward the rec room for his morning energon. He'd swing by the med bay later. He wasn't in the mood for Ratchet just yet. He felt better with a little recharge, and so far, no fluttering or kicking from the sparkling. Yet. But that was all right. He was getting used to it, even looking forward to those moments. It meant the sparkling was healthy, and getting closer to its birth. Six weeks to go, give or take, he thought as he walked into the rec room. He took a look around, and as expected, it was mostly full, with several of the base's complement of Autobots augmented by most of the Wreckers.

Kup caught his gaze, waved him over. Optimus nodded, started over, but stopped when he saw who was at the table with Kup. Frag. Drift and Hot Rod were there, along with Springer, Jazz, Wheeljack and Bluestreak. The Autobot leader backpedaled out of the room, nearly running over Ratchet in his haste to get away. The medic grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"What's wrong with you?" Ratchet asked.

Optimus glared, not saying anything, as Ratchet pulled him back toward the rec room's entrance. He looked around, stifling a grin when he saw the source of his Prime's dismay.

"Now that they're here, you're going to have to tell them," Ratchet said.

"Tell who what?" Kup asked, coming over. "Optimus, lad, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, Kup," Optimus said.

"Nothing my aft the way you took off," Kup said. "Want to talk about it?"

"That's a very good idea," Ratchet said. "C'mon, Optimus, you need your injection, and you can get some energon in the med bay. Kup's going to need to know, and knowing you, you'll want his advice on the situation. You've always been able to unburden yourself to him when you won't talk to the rest of us."

The medic half-dragged the obstinate Prime down the corridor before he removed Ratchet's hand from his arm.

"Kup, he's right. For once," Optimus said.

Kup followed, confused. Once inside the med bay, he watched Ratchet rummage around, giving Optimus an injection, and shoved a container of energon into the other Autobot's hands.

"You two can talk in here," Ratchet said. "Take as long as you need. I'm going to go see if I can pry Red Alert away from the Xantium. She's resisting taking off those 72 hours, unlike the rest of the Wreckers."

He turned his attention to Kup.

"Make sure the sparkling here drinks all of his energon," Ratchet said. "It's medical grade, and he hates the taste, but it's what he needs right now. Not fueling when he's in his condition. . .anyway, call if you need anything."

Optimus muttered his thanks, staring down at his energon, trying to ignore Kup's steady gaze.

"Are you all right?" the ancient bot finally asked.

"Fine," Optimus said, meeting Kup's optics.

"Talk," Kup said, sitting down by Optimus, putting an arm around the younger mech. Optimus relaxed, leaning against him, venting air in a sigh. "Lad, you know you can always talk to me. So what's going on?"

"Well, to begin, I'm sparked," Optimus said. "Due in about six weeks."

"Lad. . .this is good news," Kup said, thinking. Six weeks? Hmm. . .that was interesting. "So, who's the sire?"

Optimus glared at Kup. Always so direct, but it was his way.

"Do you really want to know?" Optimus said.

"I suspect who it might be," Kup said. "I'm not stupid. I can see and hear. I just want to hear you say it."

The ancient mech knew there was a hint of attraction between Optimus and at least one of the Wreckers, and even he could see it, as much as Drift tried to deny it, and he'd never said anything about it during the month they'd been on Earth. No, it was something in Drift's optics whenever he laid eyes on Optimus, and obviously it was mutual.

"Drift or Hot Rod," Optimus said.

"A trine," Kup said, slapping his friend on the back. "You could do worse. They're both good lads."

"I don't know if either of them will want me when they find out I'm sparked," Optimus said.

"They'd be stupid not to at least try," Kup said. "So would you."

"I barely know them," Optimus said.

"I know them both fairly well," Kup said. "Good mechs, like I said. they each have their issues, but who doesn't? And don't let what anyone says about Drift being a Decepticon color your judgment. That's behind him now. It's a part of him, but it's not who he is now. Hot Rod can be cocky and temperamental, but he's a loyal friend, and someone I trust with my life. Be honest with them both. That's all you can do."

"Thank you, Kup," Optimus said.

"Anytime, lad," Kup said. "Now, let's get out of here and you can tell me what we've missed since we've been gone."

88888

Springer noted the glance exchanged between Hot Rod and Drift when they all watched Optimus Prime's less than graceful exit from the rec room. Strange, that glance, but then again, so was Hot Rod's behavior toward Drift the past couple of weeks. They'd closed ranks on him. The triple changer was beginning to suspect something was going on, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.

He frowned when Hot Rod excused himself from the table after Kup left, Drift following. Springer watched them talk quietly for a few moments before Drift left. Hot Rod came back, sat down, lazily tilting his chair back so it was resting on two legs against the wall.

"You two are pretty cozy," Springer said.

"We recently arrived at the conclusion we have something in common," Hot Rod answered.

"Like?" Springer asked.

Hot Rod shrugged, dismissing his brother's comment.

Springer's frown deepened. "What's going on?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Hot Rod said. "Look, just let it go, OK? Can't you just trust me?"

"What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?" Springer snapped.

"Nothing," Hot Rod said. Yet.

"Whatever," Springer said, standing. "I'm gonna go find Arcee. Just stay out of trouble, if that's even possible."

"Later," Hot Rod said, glad Springer was gone. He loved his brother but sometimes. . .


	16. Chapter 16

Ignition

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

His office seemed a safe place to be. Optimus Prime sat at his desk, half-heartedly going over the stack of data pads in front of him. He'd talked with Kup a while, and was now trying to avoid company. The office, he hoped, would be a deterrent. No, he reflected, as he watched Drift walk into his office. The white mech just looked at him without saying anything, making for a few awkward moments.

"How are you?" Drift finally asked.

"I'm well," Optimus said. "You?"

"Fine," Drift said. "Glad the grand tour of the solar system is over. It's good to be planet side again."

He relaxed against the door frame, arms crossed, blocking Optimus' way. Damn. No quick getaway.

"Find anything interesting during the planetary survey?" Optimus asked.

"No Decepticons," Drift said. "Not much of anything else, either."

"I'm glad you're back," Optimus said, standing. "I'll see you later."

88888

Ironhide lay on the floor, tangled with Ultra Magnus. Well past 1400, and he hadn't yet made it out of his quarters for the day, frame still buzzing from the overload he'd shared with his bond mate. So this was what the humans called a "lazy Saturday" the weapons expert mused, venting air, contented. Content until Magnus opened his mouth.

"I've been wondering," Magnus said. "Is something wrong with Optimus?"

Hardly what Ironhide wanted to talk about when he'd just gotten his mate back, but it was something they were going to have to talk about. But not now.

"You could say that," Ironhide said, burying his face in Magnus' neck. "Nothing that won't resolve itself shortly."

"What are you talking about?" Magnus said.

"I'm merely suggesting it might be a good idea for you to ask Optimus yourself," Ironhide said.

"I did, and he said nothing was wrong," Magnus said.

"Nothing is. . .wrong," Ironhide said.

"Well, Optimus did say there was something he wants to discuss with me," Magnus said.

"Something that will keep a little longer," Ironhide said. "Don't worry about Optimus. Ratchet's doing enough of that for him. I told you it can wait, just a little while. We have three days together before we have to resume our duties. Can't you at least try and enjoy it?"

Magnus didn't answer, and Ironhide hoped he'd let the issue go. So much time apart, and so little again to try and make up for it, and Magnus was already finding things to worry about. Then gain, if he didn't, he wouldn't be Magnus, Ironhide reflected.

"Go talk to him later," Ironhide said. "That's the only way you'll find any peace of mind. Then get your aft back here as fast as you can. All right?"

"I will," Magnus said.

Good. That was settled.

88888

Elita-1 considered the mass of metal sitting on her berth, wondering what would be the best tactic to remove its bulk from her quarters. A stubborn jackass of a Prime who'd come looking for her, presumably for her advice about how to best approach Drift and Hot Rod about the sparkling. Optimus hadn't said much since she'd invited him in. Maybe he didn't know what to say, but she did.

"I love you, but you're being a coward. Go talk to them," she said. "I thought you were going to tell them. The sooner, the better. What, don't tell me-you're going to wait until after the sparkling is born?"

He didn't answer, just gave her that sheepish look, the one he always did when she was right and he knew it. He was so damn exasperating, that hadn't changed, and she doubted it ever would. Exasperating to her. Noble, self-sacrificing Optimus. Sitting on her berth, looking so damn forlon, so unsure of himself, fearful of rejection. So like the mech he used to be, before he was Prime, before the war.

"I thought Prowl was going to make sure you spoke with them," Elita said. "I wonder if he needs help?"

Optimus leveled his best glare on the femme.

"I'll talk to them," he said.

"When?"

"Not tonight," Optimus said.

"Tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow," Optimus said. "Happy?"

"Yes," Elita said. "They deserve to know."

He frowned, she glared back. "Don't give me that look," Elita said. "You know I'm right. Otherwise you wouldn't be here needing me to tell you what you already know you need to do."

"That's not the only reason," Optimus said. "Regardless of what happens with Drift and Hot Rod, I was wondering. . .I hope I am not imposing, or assuming that because of our past together, or our current friendship, that you would immediately agree to my request."

"What request?" Elita asked.

"That if something should happen to me, or the others, you would take over guardianship of the sparkling," Optimus said. "I was going to wait, but. . ."

"I am honored by the request, and it is something I am going to have to give serious consideration," Elita said. "And something you're going to have to discuss with Hot Rod and Drift. They have a say in such matters, too."

"Thank you, Elita," Optimus said.

"You're welcome. Now, don't you have someone else you can go bother?" The femme delivered the comment with some uncharacteristic sarcasm, but mirth danced in her optics.

"I have some reports I need to sign off," Optimus said.

"It's a Saturday, go find something fun to do," Elita said. "Or search out your two Wreckers and. . ."

"Stop," Optimus said. "I'm going. I promise I'll find something to do besides work."

"Glad to hear it," she said. "I'll see you later."


	17. Chapter 17

Ignition

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Prowl waited until a somewhat respectable time to visit Optimus. A Sunday morning, the day designated as "time off" for his Prime. The second in command suspected his leader hadn't yet conducted a certain conversation, so he was going to help spur things along, or try. He walked up to Optimus' door, entered the access code, letting himself in, finding him sitting at his desk, reading a data pad.

Optimus turned around, optic ridge raised, setting down his pad. "Don't you know how to knock?"

"Surprise has its uses," Prowl said. "And I think you haven't had that talk yet with Hot Rod and Drift, correct?"

"No," Optimus said. "I was going to do it today."

"Then why are you stalling sitting here?" Prowl said.

"Have you talked to Elita since yesterday?" Optimus asked.

"No, but if she's been on your case about the same thing, you should listen. Quit being stubborn," Prowl said. "It needs to be done."

"I know," Optimus said.

"Then quit procrastinating," Prowl said.

"I'm not. . ." Optimus said, watching Prowl's optics go dark as he commed someone. A few moments later, the door chimed. Prowl hit the access panel, and it slid open, revealing Drift and Hot Rod.

"There," Prowl said. "Have a good day, Optimus."

He walked past a confused Drift and Hot Rod.

"Mind telling us what this is all about?" Hot Rod said.

Optimus stood. "You two should sit down."

Drift sat down on his berth, in what the humans called the lotus position. Hot Rod sprawled in his desk chair.

"You're probably wondering why you're here. . ." Optimus said.

"Slightly," Hot Rod said. "I mean, we're barely back, and we're getting a comm from the second in command to come to your quarters. . .I can't think of anything I've done to warrant such a request."

He glanced at Drift, who shrugged.

"You're not in trouble," Optimus said. "This is a personal matter, and concerns both of you."

Another glance shared between the two. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all?

"I'm sparked," he said.

Hot Rod frowned, offlining and onlining his optics quickly. Drift sat very still.

"What?" Hot Rod asked. He'd heard the first time. Just making sure nothing was malfunctioning.

"I am sparked. The sire is one or both of you," Optimus said. "Ratchet won't be able to tell until after the sparkling's emergence. I wanted you both to know. I know this something neither of you were prepared for, and I can assure you, nor was I."

"What do you expect of us?" Drift asked.

"I. . .I'm unsure at the moment," Optimus said. "How we proceed is another matter we have yet to discuss, but I can tell you both I would not mind getting to know you both better."

"As would I," Drift said, giving Optimus a slight smile.

"Count me in," Hot Rod said. "No guarantees, though."

"I understand," Optimus said. "If you have nowhere else to be right now, this is my day off, and we can talk."

"Even though we're supposed to be off, I promised Kup I'd help him and Barricade with updating some security protocols this morning," Hot Rod said. "See you later, though."

He stood, letting himself out of Optimus' quarters.

Drift stayed where he was. "I have no pressing matters to attend," he said. "I'd be happy to stay right where I am."

88888

Hot Rod stared at the screen in front of him, not paying much attention to the code running on it. He was supposed to be checking it line by line, but he was preoccupied. How could he not be? He'd just had a bombshell dropped on him. He could be the sire of the Prime's sparkling. How in the Pit was he supposed to take that news? Hell, he'd wanted to stay, but he'd taken the out he had, and now he was regretting it. Optimus wanted to get to know them both better. Better news, that. But would he want both of them, or just the one that was the other creator of the sparkling? Oh Primus, Hot Rod thought, resting his head in his hands.

"What's wrong with you, lad?" Kup said.

"Just suddenly have a lot to think about," Hot Rod answered.

"Well, if your head's not in your job, go take care of whatever's bothering you," Kup said.

Can't take care of something that was just dropped in your hands, Hot Rod mused. "Not much I can really do about it right now," he said.

"Get out of here," Kup said. "Barricade and I can handle this on our own."

Hot Rod didn't need told twice.

88888

Drift spent a while talking with Optimus, grateful for time with the other mech. A privilege, and even more sobering, the knowledge their night together resulted in something tangible. An offspring, something Drift thought he would never have. Though possible it was not his, the chance existed for a relationship, and with that path, the potential for a future offspring of his own. Optimus even mentioned a trine with himself and Hot Rod, and that was also something to explore.

So much promise, but Drift also considered the precariousness of the situation. He was a former Decepticon, and though at the moment things were peaceful, they were still at war. However, he pushed it aside for the moment, content. What would happen would, and nothing could change it.

88888

He just had to go and ask for her help, Elita-1, thought, fuming as she walked down the hall to the rec room, looking for Chromia. She'd slept on what Optimus had asked-asking if she would be guardian to his sparkling in case something happened to him or his two Wreckers. His request kept her up half the night, even though she knew she didn't have to give him an answer right away.

She turned into the rec room, walked over to Chromia's table, where the older femme was reading a data pad and sipping on her energon. She didn't look up when Elita sat down.

"Chromia, I need your advice," Elita said.

"About?"

"Sparklings," Elita answered.

Chromia looked up from her pad.

"What brought this on?" she asked, suspicious. Elita had only been on Earth a few weeks, hardly enough time to initiate anything with anyone. And the other femme didn't think her friend was willing to rekindle her relationship with Optimus Prime.

"I just need your advice. If someone asked you for help, would you help them?"

"In what way?" Chromia asked.

"What if someone asked you to be guardian to their sparkling if something happened to them?" Elita said.

"I take it this is a hypothetical situation?" Chromia said.

Before Elita could reply, someone else butted in.

"A sparkling? Really? Who's carrying?" Moonracer asked. "It's not you, is it?"

"NO," Elita said. "Moonracer, get out. Now."

"But I want to know who's going to have a sparkling," Moonracer said.

"Where did you come from?" Chromia asked.

"I just walked in, and heard you two talking, and wanted to hear, that's all," Moonracer said.

"It's rude to listen in on the conversations of others," Chromia said.

"And no one is having a sparkling," Elita said.

"Uh huh," Moonracer said. "See you two later."

88888

"You need more places to sit in here," Optimus said, looking around Ironhide's spartan quarters. The Autobot leader was standing, Ironhide was sitting on the berth and Magnus was sitting at Ironhide's desk, which he never used.

"Don't need anyplace to sit because I'm never here, and the berth's for recharge and other uses," Ironhide said. "If you want to talk to Magnus alone, I'll leave."

"You already know, so there's no reason for you not to stay," Optimus said.

"Besides, I'll keep Magnus from killing you," Ironhide said, crossing his arms, leaning back in his chair.

"What are you talking about?" Magnus said.

"You're about to find out," Ironhide said.

"Would you two quit being so cryptic?" Magnus asked. "What is going on?"

"Magnus, old friend, I'm glad you're sitting. Ironhide already knows, and you most definitely need to know," Optimus said, sucking in air through his intakes and venting it slowly. "I'm sparked."

Magnus stared, not saying anything.

"Are you all right?" Ironhide asked his mate.

Magnus nodded. "You. Sparked."

"Yes, sparked, carrying a protoform due for emergence in about six weeks," Optimus said.

"If you think this is good," Ironhide said, "ask him who the sire is."

"That's Optimus' business," Magnus said.

"I know, so you might as well know, too," Ironhide said, mirth in his optics.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Optimus snapped.

"Immensely," Ironhide said.

"I should put you on monitor duty for the next six weeks with Bluestreak and Moonracer," Optimus said.

"You wouldn't," Ironhide said.

Optimus gave him a grim smile. "I will if you don't shut up," he said.

Ironhide shuddered. Moonracer and Bluestreak apart he could deal with. Together, no. Never in a million years. The two younglings drove each other mad and anyone caught in the crossfire when they were together.

"Guess you don't want to know how busy Optimus was the night of the party," Ironhide said.

"Which one?" Magnus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. His mate and his friend were starting to give him a processor ache of epic proportions-Ironhide for baiting Optimus and Optimus for not just coming clean.

"The one before you left for the solar system survey," Ironhide said. "Our Prime here was showing off some of his legendary stamina."

Oh Primus, Magnus thought. He did not need to know this.

"Either Drift or Hot Rod, or possibly both, could be the sire of my sparkling," Optimus said, shooting Ironhide one of his best Prime looks. The one that usually had Decepticons dropping their weapons and screaming away in retreat on the battlefield.

"_What_?" Magnus asked. "The troublemaker and the assassin?"

Ironhide gave Optimus an "I-told-you-so" look.

"As you said, Magnus, that is my business," Optimus said.

"Don't take offense. It's just that. . .you have. . .interesting taste," Magnus said. "I trust them both, and if they're what makes you happy, that's all that matters. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Optimus said, taking his leave.


	18. Chapter 18

Ignition

Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Barricade sat with Kup, catching up with the ancient mech, sharing what he'd missed during the six weeks the Wreckers were gone. They were in the rec room, where he could better keep an eye on Bluestreak for Prowl. The young mech was sitting at a table close by, chatting with Blurr. Prowl had said something about his brother's interest in the speedy blue Wrecker, and possibly considering discouraging said interest. That was one matter where Barricade disagreed with his bond mate. Blue was old enough to make his own decisions. Prowl just hadn't realized that yet. Poor Prowler. He was still half-listening to Kup when Moonracer, one of the femmes, made herself at home at Blue's table, and nudged Kup with an elbow.

"This could be fun," he said, nodding toward the other three Autobots.

"Why?" Kup asked.

"Moonracer drives Blue nuts," Barricade said. "He said she's 'too damn perky.' His exact words."

"She's young," Kup said. "So's he."

"Kup, I think this planet is younger than you," Barricade said.

Kup slapped him on the back. "Funny, 'Cade," he said. "I'm going. I have watch on the Xantium tonight."

"See you later," Barricade said, settling back to listen to the conversation at the other table.

". . .Elita said no one was carrying, but I think she was covering," Moonracer said. "I don't know who it could be. Do you?"

"You're full of it," Bluestreak said. "C'mon, Blurr, let's go."

He stood, dragging the other mech away, leaving the femme alone. Barricade waited a few seconds, and left himself, heading for the quarters he shared with Prowl. Barricade let himself in, not surprised at finding Prowl at the desk, occupied with a stack of reports, and oblivious to his presence. He decided to correct that immediately.

Prowl's door wings quivered when Barricade ambushed him.

"I'm happy you're back," Prowl said, trying to ignore the hands roving his frame-one holding him firmly in his seat, the other sliding along the bottom of one of his door wings, Barricade's mouth suddenly on his neck.

"What did you do this time?" Prowl said, twisting out of his mate's grip.

"Nothing," Barricade said, feigning innocence. "I missed you today. I was going to let you know how much, if you'll just join me on the berth. . ."

"Why are you trying to distract me?" Prowl asked.

"Blue's fine, but I did hear something come up in conversation," Barricade said.

"What?" Prowl said.

"I think Moonracer was telling Blue and Blurr she heard Elita-1 deny that someone was carrying," Barricade said. "I know Optimus hasn't made a formal announcement yet, but half the base knows anyway. You, me, Hatchet, Ironhide, probably Kup and Magnus by now."

"Did you say anything?" Prowl said.

"No."

"At least you know when you keep your mouth shut," Prowl said.

"So?"

Prowl rested his head in his hand. Why did Primus have to pair him with such an obstinate mech?

"Well, if Moonracer's talking, the other half of the base will know by now someone is carrying," Prowl said.

"Not who," Barricade said. "Besides, Optimus is better than six weeks along now, so everyone's going to need to know sooner or later."

"That's not the point," Prowl said. "Gossip is just. . .bad."

"Scuttlebutt is good. Gives everyone something other than duty to talk about," Barricade said.

"And keeps everyone from doing their jobs," Prowl said.

"I bet if Chromia or Elita get wind of Moonracer gossiping they'll do something about it," Barricade said. "It's nothing to worry about."

"It's something to consider," Prowl said. "Optimus can take care of it, if it comes to that. I'm more worried about Blue."

"He was sitting in the rec room talking with a friend, that's all," Barricade said.

"'Cade, are you really that naive?" Prowl said. "This is Bluestreak we're talking about. He's picked up some bad habits from Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. And Jazz indulges him, too."

"Like you don't?" Barricade said. "Prowler, don't worry. Blue's an adult. He can take care of himself."

"He's barely past the youngling stage," Prowl said.

"How's he going to learn if you don't let him make mistakes?" Barricade said.

"I don't want him to get hurt," Prowl said. "Or getting any ideas."

"You're Praxian through and through," Barricade said. "Blue's more like me, since he was raised in Iacon. You have nothing to worry about."

He thought about it, changing his mind. Blue was Prowl's baby brother, and had plenty of opportunity to learn from his older brother.

"Well, you did blackmail me into bonding with you," Barricade said.

"I did not blackmail you," Prowl said.

"Optimus called it blackmail," Barricade said.

"He considered it blackmail," Prowl said. "There is a difference."

"A technicality, oh logical one," Barricade said.

"Technicality or not, we are bonded," Prowl said. "Enough 'Cade. Let's get some rest."

88888

Hot Rod sat on the beach, watching the waves roll in. Earth was a beautiful planet, a good place to be. He felt better, more at peace now, after a long talk with Ratchet. Still shaky over the idea of being a sire, but the medic reassured him he'd be so busy until the sparkling's arrival he wouldn't have much time to worry about it.

That was the easy part. Keeping busy. He knew he was up for promotion if he didn't find a way to screw it up, and that meant little time for much else besides recharge and duty. No personal life, either. Insecurities about himself were one thing, dealing with forming a relationship with Optimus was something else.

Not going to worry about it, Hot Rod thought. Or try not to.

He didn't get much of a chance to follow through with that thought when he heard his brother pull up, transform, taking a seat beside him.

"Hiding?" Springer said. "What did you do now?"

"Spring, lay off," Hot Rod said. "It's none of your damn business."

"If it involves Drift, it does," Springer said.

"Spring, just stop, all right? There's nothing to get worked up about, OK? It really has nothing to do with you. It's. . .personal," Hot Rod said. "So butt out. I'll talk to you when I'm ready."

He stood, sending a silent comm to the Xantium requesting a beam-up. Springer watched as a pillar of light enveloped Hot Rod and disappeared, leaving only the indention in the sand where his brother sat. There, beside it, was a data pad. Hot Rod must've left it, Springer thought. He picked it up, looked at the screen, scrolling through the data. It was a pad on sparkling care. What in the Pit was Hot Rod doing with that?

88888

"Embarrassed" didn't cover it. Furious was better. Bluestreak muttered under his breath what he was going to do do his brother when he found him. Having Ultra Magnus bring him back to the living quarters from the Xantium was overkill, Bluestreak thought. He had permission from Kup to be there, and Ultra Magnus hadn't minded either, telling him to come back whenever he wanted. He'd only been sitting in the Xantium rec room, with Blurr, playing a game called "Go," with several of the other Wreckers there, also. Blurr was a friend. Nothing more, the moment. But apparently, Prowl thought otherwise, and that was why Bluestreak planned on having more than words with his big brother. Not that he'd be able to inflict any damage. Prowl was more experienced at hand-to-hand combat, but who was Bluestreak kidding? He'd get himself thrown in the brig.

The young mech was so intent on his thoughts, muttering out loud, he didn't notice he had an audience. A hand touched him on the shoulder, and he jumped.

"Blue, are you all right?" Optimus Prime asked.

"Yeah, fine," Blue answered. "I guess."

"Want to talk about it?" Optimus said, motioning toward his office, which he'd just left, since it was getting late.

"Isn't it late, I mean, we both have to be on duty tomorrow, first thing," Blue said.

"I think I'm in a position to make it all right for you to be a bit late, if needed," Optimus said. "What's bothering you?

Blue vented air in a sigh, following his leader into his office. He sat down, silent for a moment, then started in.

"Prowl said if I want to be treated like an adult, I have to act like one," Bluestreak said. "He won't let me near Blurr because I might be getting ideas. Prowl can take our Praxian traditions and stuff them. I might have been sparked in Praxus, but I was raised in Iacon, and Iacon was home. I like the way bots there courted-it's a lot like how the humans 'date.' That's what I want. I'll be Blurr's friend for as long as it takes."

So, that was it, Optimus thought.

"Prowl doesn't want you around Blurr at all?" he asked.

"He found out I was over on the Xantium, and he had Ultra Magnus bring me back," Blue said. "I was playing a game, in the rec room, with other bots around. And I had permission to be there on the ship, so it's not like I was doing anything wrong."

"Prowl still thinks of you as a youngling," Optimus said. "He's raised you, so it might be hard for him to accept you've grown up."

"Prowl's an aft head," Blue said. "I miss Streetwise. I wish he was here. He'd make Prowl change his mind."

Optimus put a hand on the young mech's shoulder, remembering when he met him. Prowl brought him to Iacon with him, and that was the first time he saw Prowl, at the time his newly-appointed tactician, looking harried and slightly afraid, a silver and black sparkling in tow. How the sparkling attached itself to Prowl's leg when he approached.

How times had changed.

"Streetwise might still be alive," Optimus said. "He was part of a gestalt, and remember, his unit was ordered off the planet to the colonies before we launched the Allspark."

"I know," Blue said. "I keep hoping, but. . ."

"You miss your brother," Optimus said. "I'm sure Prowl does too."

"He does," Blue said. "He's even said so."

"Remember Prowl has your best interests at spark, or at least thinks he does," Optimus said.

"Don't remind me," Blue said, standing to go. "Thanks for listening to me, though."

"You're welcome," Optimus said, walking out of his office behind the younger mech.

Praxian heritage, indeed. Prowl was proud of his traditions, and he tried to hold on to them. He and Bluestreak were the only survivors of the city, along with their brother, Streetwise, who they still had hope of seeing again.

Optimus also knew Prowl used tradition, heritage and duty as justification for his bonding with Barricade, but he knew his second-in-command did care for the other mech. Their long-standing friendship had started to grow into something more right after the war began. But a split in ideologies fractured his relationship with Prowl, and the Autobots. Then he began feeding them information after Egypt. Following came a request for amnesty, then came his complete defection, along with his sharing of all he knew of Decepticon forces, tactics and future plans. All he was privy to. Prowl's demand for a show of loyalty came with a bond. He'd know if the other mech was lying. He'd stake his very life on Barricade's loyalty. Optimus almost considered it blackmail, but they were happily bonded. He could see that.

But his friend could not see his baby brother was growing up. He could deny it, but it would only bring more trouble. One more situation to deal with, Optimus thought as he let himself into his quarters. But not tonight.


	19. Chapter 19

Ignition

Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Monday morning. Business as usual for Optimus Prime. Almost. The morning teleconference with Washington, D.C., was followed by a cancelled officers' briefing, forcing the Prime to drive home the point certain personnel still had one day left on their leave. Like Ultra Magnus, who said he'd spent enough time with Ironhide, and they had work to do, and might as well get to it.

Lennox backed Optimus up, giving almost everyone the day off, which they both agreed everyone could use. And with that, Optimus found himself on the Xantium, dragged to the med bay with Ratchet for scans and a thorough check-up. The Autobot leader put up with the poking and prodding, amused by the banter between Ratchet and the Wreckers' female medic, Red Alert. She gave as good as she got, holding her own with his cranky CMO. Now, he was waiting with Ratchet, while the femme conducted one last scan before letting them return to base.

Red Alert stared at the screen in front of her, waiting for the images from the scan to show. After a few moments, the scans coalesced, arranging themselves into something she could make out. The three-dimensional representation of Optimus' sparkling hung in the air in front of her. She could see through the image, but she leaned to the side, peering around it at Ratchet and the Autobot leader. Ratchet had a frown gracing his features; Optimus had a questioning look on his face.

"Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" Ratchet asked.

"Affirmative," Red Alert said.

"What?" Optimus said.

"Move your aft so Prime can see," Red Alert said, getting up and pulling the other medic out of the way.

Two protoforms lay nestled against his spark.

"I thought it was big for one protoform," Ratchet said.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Optimus said, crossing his arms.

"I wanted to make sure," Ratchet said. "Now I'm sure. Red Alert confirmed it."

"Twins," Red Alert said. "I don't think they're split-spark twins, are they?"

She looked at Ratchet for confirmation.

"There was only one when I conducted the first scans about a week after he was sparked," Ratchet said.

"Why couldn't you tell there were two?" Optimus asked.

"You 'faced two mechs, so the second, younger developing spark was probably masked by the first and older developing protoform," Ratchet said. "That's all I can come up with."

"Twins. . ." Optimus said.

"I know it's a shock," Red Alert said. "But your mech and femmling are doing fine. I'd recommend scaling back on your duties somewhat, getting more rest and introducing as little stress as possible into your life until their don't want them to come early."

"I'll back her up on that," Ratchet said. "You think I'm scary, just wait until you anger Red Alert."

Optimus shot him a look that silenced the medic.

"Red Alert, are you finished?"

"All done, unless you have any questions," she said. "You can go."

The Autobot leader stood, dragged Ratchet out into the corridor.

"You said it was one sparkling," Optimus said. "Not two."

"I told you the medical equipment in my med bay is better suited to dealing with battle injuries," Ratchet said. "Even with the updates we installed. Get used to the idea you're having two, not one."

"How am I going to deal with twins?" Optimus muttered.

"You'll have help," Ratchet said, putting his hand on his Prime's shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "So don't worry about that."

"So. . ." Optimus started.

"Yes?" Ratchet said.

"Does this mean that one belongs to Hot Rod and the other protoform to Drift?" Optimus asked.

"Probably," Ratchet said. "Of that I'm almost certain, but we can sequence their CNA after their emergence, and tell for sure."

"Not that it matters," Optimus said. "I don't really want to have to choose between them."

"Well, this greatly reduces those chances, doesn't it?" Ratchet said.

88888

Springer spent most of his day last day off with Arcee, trying to postpone a conversation with Hot Rod, one he wasn't looking forward to. The data pad still in his possession had him fuming as he walked down one of the Xantium's corridors, headed toward the quarters he shared with his brother. He walked inside. Hot Rod sat up on his berth, seeing his brother.

"Want to explain what this is all about?" Springer asked, tossing the data pad at Hot Rod, who caught it. "Tell me-are you sparked?"

Hot Rod sighed. "No. . .but I was with someone who is," he said. There. It was out.

"It's not Drift, is it?" Springer said.

"Hardly," Hot Rod said.

"Can't be one of the Wreckers," Springer said. "So it has to be one of the Earth crew, right? When did you have time during the month we were here to get involved with anyone?"

"I didn't," Hot Rod said. "Not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Springer said.

"It means I have a lot to think about," Hot Rod said.

"Are you going to tell me who it is?"

"That's my business," Hot Rod said. "For now at least. Don't keep pressing me on this. I told you I'll talk about it when I'm ready. And from your reaction, I've already said too much."

"We've hardly been here on this planet long enough to know what's what, where we fit in," Springer said. "You're up for promotion. Do you want to endanger that?

Springer had a point. Hot Rod knew matters were complicated enough, and were going to become more so as his personal and professional lives intersected. Collided was more appropriate, he thought.

"Spring, don't worry about it," Hot Rod said. "I know Magnus has been talking about promoting you, and you know it too, but that hasn't made you drop your interest in Arcee."

"Operant word Rodi-interested," Springer said. "I like Arcee, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to ensure I have a real chance with her. I've never met anyone like her. . ."

"If you feel that way about someone, then you should understand where I'm coming from," Hot Rod said.

"From what you've told me, I _understand_ you were reckless, 'faced someone you barely know and probably don't know what to do next," Springer said. "C'mon, Rodi, I'm not stupid."

Hot Rod counted backwards from 10, trying to keep a clamp on his temper. He and Springer didn't often fight now they were older, but when they did, sometimes confrontations became physical. And Springer just would not drop it. But he never had a chance to retort.

:Hot Rod, please come to my quarters when you have a chance. I need to talk to both you and Drift. Again.: Optimus. Great.

"Gotta go, Spring," Hot Rod said, walking out of their quarters, grateful for a chance to cool off. He loved his brother, but sometimes Springer took things too far. Hot Rod pushed it from his mind, comming Sandstorm, who was on duty in ops, asking him to bounce him over to the base. Anything Optimus had to be better than an argument with Springer.


	20. Chapter 20

Ignition

Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Drift could feel his leader's energy field before he even entered his quarters. It was unsettling. Upon entering, Optimus Prime was indeed agitated. Hot Rod followed him in, leaning against the door once it was closed, arms crossed. Drift took a much more dignified position, seating himself on his Prime's berth.

"Are you all right?" Drift asked.

"Yeah, everything OK?" Hot Rod said.

Concern. That was good, Opitmus thought, but he didn't want to alarm them, which he clearly was.

"I found out today I'm not carrying a single protoform, but two," Optimus said. "Ratchet is certain each of you sired a sparkling apiece. One is a mech, the other a femme."

He waited for a reaction from the other two Autobots, gratified by Drift's smile, something he'd never seen before, concerned at the way Hot Rod started to sway, but he caught himself. Instead of offlining, Hot Rod hit his knees, purging all over the floor.

Before Optimus could move, Drift was at Hot Rod's side, helping him to a sitting position.

"Sorry," Hot Rod said, wiping energon from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just went from a possibility of being a sire the other day to more than certain today."

"If you're unsure of what to expect, I assure you I am not in much better shape than you," Optimus said.

"Whatever," Hot Rod said.

"I think he's just better at covering it up," Drift said.

"You are correct," Optimus said, assisting Drift with helping Hot Rod to the berth. "Hot Rod, would you like me to call Ratchet?"

"Not on your life," Hot Rod said. "I'm all right."

"Are you sure?" Drift asked.

"Shaky, that's all, and just having a little trouble with taking all of this in," he answered. "Thanks for asking."

"I have watch on the Xantium tonight," Drift said. "Want to go back to the ship with me?"

"Not really," Hot Rod said. "I'd rather not have to deal with Springer right now."

"If you need someplace to recharge tonight, you're welcome to stay here with me," Optimus offered. "I understand if you choose not to. . ."

"No, that's fine, and it'll give us a chance to talk," Hot Rod said. "You want to get to know us both better, and considering the circumstances, might as well. You OK with that, Drift?"

"Yes. I've had more opportunity than you to spend time with Optimus, so I don't mind," Drift said. "And I'll run interference with Springer if I see him."

"Thanks," Hot Rod said.

88888

Staying up talking with Hot Rod made Optimus late for the morning teleconference with Washington, D.C. And the teleconference wasn't going well so far. National Security Advisor Theodore Galloway was making it an unpleasant experience.

"Gen. Morshower is out with the flu, so you're stuck with me this morning, gentlemen," Galloway said. "I have one question-is this paperwork for paternity leave someone's idea of a joke?"

Optimus suddenly felt like everyone in the hangar was staring at him. It was only Prowl, Lennox, Graham and Epps, everyone else seemed to be doing their jobs.

"Mr. Galloway, we'll continue this conversation in my office," Optimus said. "Prowl, connect him to my terminal there."

A few minutes later, Optimus was in his office, followed by Lennox and Graham. He sat down at his desk, and the humans both stood at attention waiting. Seconds later they were greeted with the sound of Galloway's voice.

"You needed time off, so this is how you request it?" Galloway said.

"The paperwork was not my idea," Optimus said. "It was Maj. Lennox and Capt. Graham's way of trying to get me the time off I need without raising too many eyebrows."

"It would make it easier if I knew why," Galloway said. "Morshower's been beating around the bush on telling me, and if you, of all people need time off, it has to be justified, considering you're one of our heaviest hitters."

"He needs the time off for the reason stated in the paperwork," Graham said, speaking up.

"No offense, Optimus, Captain, but you Autobots have not been given permission to increase your population," Galloway said. "And you know we have rules regarding fraternization."

"Sir, rules that do not apply to an alien species," Lennox said. "They're _our_ guests, they're helping protect our planet, and as far as I'm concerned. . ."

"Major, your opinion is duly noted, but that's not the problem we're discussing," Galloway said. "Which one of the female Autobots is expecting?"

"None of them, at the moment," Optimus said. "I'm the one that's expecting."

Silence for several moments.

"I hope he fainted," Lennox muttered.

Graham elbowed his commanding officer. "He can still hear us."

"You. . .You're expecting, Optimus?" Galloway asked.

"That's what he said," Lennox snapped.

"I'm due in a little less than six weeks now," Optimus said.

"I take it this is normal for your species?" Galloway asked.

"A mech can be sparked, and carry to term, femmes are more likely to be carriers than a mech, but with the Allspark, infusion was the preferred method of reproduction," Optimus said. "Ratchet can prepare a report for you, if you like. Do you have any other questions?"

"No," Galloway said. "And, uh, congratulations."

"Thank you," Optimus said.

That conversation over, there was still much to complete. Like letting the rest of the base know, and there was no point in waiting any longer.

:Prowl, I'd like for everyone to gather in the rec room. I have an announcement to make: Optimus said, comming his second in command.

:Letting everyone know, eh?: Prowl asked.

:I might as well: Optimus said.

:Give me 15 minutes, and I'll have everyone there, or else:

:See you then:

88888

The bases' contingent of Autobots were all present, including the Wreckers, as well as some of the human personnel. Optimus Prime surveyed the room, cycled air. An informal gathering for a formal announcement. Might as well get it over with.

"I know you're all wondering why your presence has been requested. I have an announcement to make. . .there will be two new additions to the base's population in a few weeks' time," Optimus said. "I am sparked with twins."

There was stunned silence for few moments, then, of course, everyone started talking at once.

Prowl shot the assembled group a look that silenced most of them.

"This will not affect our readiness to combat Decepticons, if needed," Optimus said. "With the arrival of Ultra Magnus and the Wreckers, this gives us more flexibility when it comes to our combat capabilities, and changes will be implemented. Some of you are also due for promotion, and if you'll be patient enough to wait, Prowl and Jazz will speak with those involved, and there will be a round of briefings this afternoon, so those changes can be discussed. If anyone has any questions, I will be in my office."

That done, Optimus left, glad to finally have news of his condition out in the open. But not everyone was greeting the news positively. Springer locked optics with Hot Rod, who was across the room. Well, that explained _that_. The Prime, off all the mechs and femmes on base to choose from. . .and he mean to have it out with Rodi, but before he could make his way over, Jazz caught him, and Prowl was talking with his brother. Damn. It would have to wait.


	21. Chapter 21

Ignition

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Lennox twitched. Graham reached out a steadying hand. Optimus' announcement was being accepted with enthusiasm by most of the base's personnel. Lennox, however, was not taking it so well.

"Twins?" Lennox said.

"Twins," Graham said.

"I've got to sit down," Lennox said, sinking to the floor. "Why did Optimus have to be so. . .so damn thorough?" Lennox said.

Graham shrugged. "Would you like me to go ask him?" he said, straight-faced, but there was mirth in his eyes.

"Yeah, you should," Lennox said. "Maybe I'll go with you, later. Right now I need a drink."

88888

Springer should've been over the moon about his promotion, but he wasn't. Commander of the Wreckers, Hot Rod as his second in command, Rodi was also going to be training under Ultra Magnus and Prime, learning to run the combat operations. Prowl had enough on his plate, helping oversee the day to day operations of the base, and coordinating battle plans, working with special ops planning missions; Ultra Magnus would help coordinate the rest, with assistance from Hot Rod. Kup was now security director for the base, possibly the planet if Prime and Magnus got their way.

Lots of changes and revelations to take in. And of course, Hot Rod made himself scarce; Drift had weapons practice with Ironhide, leaving Springer with no one to talk to until he hunted down his brother in the rec room later that day.

"Twins," Springer said, finally catching up with Hot Rod, not caring if anyone else was around. And thankfully, there wasn't.

"Only one is mine," Hot Rod offered.

"You 'faced the Prime," Springer said. "You sparked the Prime's offspring. What the hell were you thinking?"

"We were both overcharged from too much energon, and it just. . .happened," Hot Rod said.

"So, you weren't thinking," Springer said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Take responsibility for my actions," Hot Rod answered. "And see where things go between us."

"Where things go? Are you even _thinking_? This is the Prime we're talking about," Springer said. "No offense Rodi, but. . ."

"What?" Hot Rod snapped, arms crossed, his face suddenly stony, energy field flaring so violently Springer took a step back.

"Rodi, I'm just saying. . .this is something you're going to have to think through very thoroughly. A relationship with the Prime. . .that's heavy. . ." Springer said.

"I know," Hot Rod said. "I'm not stupid."

"Stupid, no, but brash, headstrong, cocky, and temperamental," Springer said. "Sometimes you let your mouth and your spark get ahead of your good sense, what little of it you have. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thanks, Spring," Hot Rod said. "I know you're concerned, but I don't want to talk about this anymore right now, OK? We can finish discussing it tonight."

With that, Hot Rod walked off, leaving Springer alone, fuming.


	22. Chapter 22

Ignition

Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

The atmosphere on base improved after Optimus' announcement. Morale was up and the instances of pranks or acts of insubordination were nearly nonexistent besides an incident involving Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, a potato cannon and Ultra Magnus. Graham was grateful no one was wounded during what Sideswipe called an "experiment." He made a mental not to send Prowl a memo reminding him to not assign the silver twin to lab duty with Wheeljack. Time the two spent together was put to better use with them teaching the other Autobots close combat techniques. Sideswipe and Wheeljack preferred bladed weapons to firearms, but they were proficient with both.

Watching the two square off against one another was a sight to see. They'd even fought against Prime a time or two because he also had blades in his arsenal, and that fight was one he would never forget. But at the moment, Graham had another issue to deal with involving Prime. He, Lennox, Epps and a few of the other NEST soldiers decided they should do something for Optimus because he was carrying, but the lot of them hadn't a clue what to do for him, or what to get. What did one get a pregnant male giant robot from space for a baby gift?

Graham had an idea, but he decided to defer to an expert in the baby gift department. His oldest sister, Iona, had three children of her own, and was a veteran at throwing baby showers, the latest for their youngest sister, who was expecting her first child. He e-mailed Iona, telling her one of his fellow soldiers was going to be a first-time father, and they wanted to get him something for the child. She had suggested storybooks. Graham liked the idea, and it was something easy. She even sent him a list of titles. Now all he had to do was run it by Lennox and he could do the rest.

88888

Younglings were also on the mind of one of the Autobots. Kup was annoyed with how things were going between Springer and Hot Rod. Apparently it was all right for the triple changer to start a serious relationship the instant he arrived planet side, but not appropriate for Hot Rod. Ripping Springer apart seemed like a good idea, but Kup knew he couldn't. Beating the slag out of him during a hand to hand combat demonstration that afternoon served its purpose. Springer's cocky attitude was taken down a notch or three, and also gave some of the younger punks on base a lesson, also.

"Ancient" didn't mean slow, weak, crippled or decrepit. He was trying to give them the benefit of his experience, and it was slowly starting to rub off. On some more than others. Unfortunately, Hot Rod had taken his advice about actions speaking louder than words to spark one too many times. The young mech was apt to start and finish a confrontation with his fists or weapons instead of words. It sent a nice message, but his temper was something he was going to have to work on. Hopefully his relationship with Optimus would help settle him. Springer, on the other hand, had a mouth. He talked trash. He would talk until a situation escalated, usually defrayed by Hot Rod and weapons. It was amazing the pair of them survived as long as they had, with and without his intervention.

Another part of that equation was Drift, another of what Ultra Magnus called his "projects." Drift was fitting in well, putting his past behind him, and building a future for himself. That he was a former Decepticon didn't sit well with some, but Prowl and Barricade were swiftly dealing with anyone who had anything negative to say. They were still facing the same problems themselves. It would work out. Things always did. Not exactly the way one usually wanted, but that was life.

88888

Ratchet frowned, surveying his med bay. Springer was finally awake from his "training bout" with Kup, and Optimus Prime was giving him dirty looks from his own berth.

"I should pull you from duty until you have those sparklings," Ratchet said. "You are not to engage in any weapons training, missions or anything else remotely strenuous until their emergence. Do I make myself clear?"

At the same time Kup and Springer had been demonstrating their stupidity, Optimus had been grappling with Ironhide during a drill with the humans. And during that drill, Optimus felt a sharp pain in his chest, heavy movements from the sparklings followed by the sensation of his chest armor trying to slide open. All symptoms of emergence, and the Prime's twins still had five weeks to go.

"If were were on Cybertron, this would not be a problem. But we're not. I may be a damn fine medic, and so is Red Alert, but we do not have the facilities to deal with two extremely premature protoforms," Ratchet said. "So consider yourself warned. If you feel so much as a twitch in your spark chamber you comm me. Do you understand?"

Optimus nodded in affirmation. "Get out of my med bay," Ratchet said. "I've warned those two Wreckers of yours about you, and what to do. They will be watching you like Earth hawks, and they will do the right thing because I've made the consequences painfully clear."

His Prime grunted as he got up off the berth, staring at the ground as he left the med bay. Ratchet turned his attention to Springer.

"Your turn, sparkling," the medic said, a maniacal grin on his face. "Today must be 'stupid day' in my med bay. Oh, wait, that's every day."

"Stuff it, Hatchet," Springer said. "Patch me up and let me go."

"That will win you brownie points," Ratchet snapped. "You're not going anywhere. Before I repair you, we're going to have a little talk, just between us."

"About?"

"How you've been an aft when it comes to your brother and how you're treating him and the situation he's in," Ratchet said. "Things happen, and you need to understand that. It could just as easily be you who got Arcee sparked, and you could be in Hot Rod's position."

"But I'm not," Springer said. "Hot Rod doesn't think, and. . ."

"Neither are you," Ratchet said, smacking Springer in the head with a wrench. "That's _your_ warning. I know big changes are sometimes hard to accept, but wrap your head around the fact you're going to have an addition to your family line. One joined to the Prime himself. An honor for you and yours. And more importantly a new life-something rare and precious for an endangered species like us."

Springer frowned. "Damn it, I don't need you telling me how to act," he said. "Rodi never thinks. . .I'm responsible for him, and some example. . ."

"You are not responsible for him or his actions," Ratchet said. "Maybe as his older sibling as you were growing up, but you're both adults now. He got himself into this situation, and he will deal with it. You should try and be what you've always been-his brother and best friend."

"Are you done?" Springer asked.

"Chewing you out?" Ratchet said. "Yes. Now I'll fix you up."

Springer vented air in a sigh. Maybe ol' Hatchet was right.


	23. Chapter 23

Ignition

Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Hot Rod could feel the anxiety radiating from Springer's frame as his brother's footsteps got closer. He didn't spare his brother a look as Springer sat down beside him on the beach.

"I'm sorry," Springer said.

Hot Rod didn't reply.

"Damn it, Rodi, I mean it. I'm sorry. I know this whole situation has knocked you for a loop and I haven't been helping," Springer said.

"Apology accepted," Hot Rod said.

"That's a relief," Springer said. "How can I make things up to you?"

"I'll let you know," Hot Rod said.

"So, I'm going to be an uncle," Springer said. "You do realize I'm going to spoil your kid rotten, and make sure its first word is 'no.'"

"With my luck, he'll take after you," Hot Rod said.

"It's a mech?" Springer asked.

"Yeah," Hot Rod said.

"That wouldn't be so bad. He could have my looks," Springer said.

"Funny," Hot Rod said. "How are things going with Arcee?"

"Not as fast as you're moving," Springer said. "Thank Primus."

"Spring. . ."

"Things are good," Springer said. "Better than I could have hoped."

Springer put an arm around Hot Rod, pulling his brother close. He knew Rodi was scared. Who wouldn't be? Involved with their Prime, and becoming a sire. Only Rodi could get himself into such trouble so fast.

"Prime was in the med bay while I was," Springer said. "Ratchet was pretty angry with him."

"Five weeks to go, and Optimus could have the twins early," Hot Rod said.

"Ratchet chewed him out," Springer said. "So I know what's going on. If you need any help baby-sitting Prime, that's one way I could help."

Hot Rod snorted. "I can see that," he said.

"Well, if he's stubborn enough to be up and around when he shouldn't be, somebody needs to put him in his place," Springer said. "He's our Prime, and he's carrying. We can't let anything happen to him."

"We can only try," Hot Rod said.

"I know," Springer said. "So, have any names picked out?"

"A few," Hot Rod said. "But if you have any suggestions, I'd like to hear them."

88888

Drift and Hot Rod were taking turns recharging with Optimus in his quarters. They'd worked out a schedule around their duties and shifts, and so far, it was working. Except Drift was restless. The situation with Optimus and his condition, and Hot Rod was making him uneasy. So much could go wrong, and he wasn't exactly welcome among the ranks. His past as a Decepticon wasn't making it easy for him to fit in, and he hadn't made many friends yet among the Autobots that had been on Earth the longest. He expected that he'd be lucky if they came to tolerate his presence among them. And he doubted anyone among them would accept him as their Prime's mate. Why would they? Just another matter he'd have to make peace with.

Optimus had accepted him, and they were getting to know each other better. Drift's friendship with Hot Rod was deepening, yet another complication in an already tangled situation.

88888

"Tangled" also fit Ironhide and Ultra Magnus' current circumstances. Ironhide had ambushed his overworked mate, and now wouldn't let him move from their berth. The black mech normally wasn't much of a talker post-interface, but he'd been thinking. Thinking, he reflected, was sometimes a bad idea. Like now, but he wanted to know Magnus' opinion.

"Do you want a sparkling?" Ironhide asked.

"Hmm?" Magnus said, looking up at his bond mate.

"Do you see us having a sparkling?" Ironhide said.

"Maybe," Magnus said. "It's not something I've ever given serious consideration, considering our duties, personalities and the war."

"We could try," Ironhide said. "Practice is good."

"You always want to 'practice,'" Magnus said, giving his mate a rare smile.

Ironhide laughed. "Only with you," he said.


	24. Chapter 24

Ignition

Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

A little over three weeks to go for Optimus Prime until the emergence of his twins. The Autobot leader was currently laying in his berth, trying to recharge after a long day. A good day, but a long one. The human half of the NEST command structure had thrown a surprise "baby shower" for him that afternoon. They'd explained it was a tradition for expectant Earth mothers where others bestowed gifts for the offspring. Graham, Lennox and Epps had gifted him with an assortment of books for human children, but they would also be appropriate for his sparklings. His fellow Autobots had bestowed a few gifts as well, such as a sparkling berth from the engineering and scientific departments and offers of sparkling-sitting from others.

He felt restless and out of sorts, and he'd felt the occasional twinge in his spark. Ratchet had told him to keep him informed of anything unusual, but Optimus chalked it up to normal pre-emergence jitters. Had to be. Except now, it was more than a twinge. It was sudden blinding pain, and it was all he could do to will his chest armor to stay closed.

Drift, who was resting beside him, woke when the bigger mech shook him awake.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The sparklings," Optimus said.

Moments later, Drift watched as Ironhide and Ultra Magnus half-dragged their Prime between them, heading toward the med bay. Then Ratchet was shoving him out of the way as Optimus was deposited on a medical berth, and Red Alert touched his shoulder as she moved past him to Optimus. And then Hot Rod was running into the med bay, Springer hot on his heels.

"Will everyone kindly wait outside?" Ratchet asked. "Now. It's not a request. It's an order."

"Us, too?" Hot Rod asked.

"Especially you two," Ratchet said, taking Hot Rod by one arm and Drift by another, dragging them to the door. "Springer, keep an eye on these two, will you? One of us will come get you when we can."

Two hours later, almost dawn, and Springer was sitting on the floor in the corridor outside the med bay. He was between Hot Rod and Drift, with an arm around his brother and a hand on Drift's shoulder. Ironhide and Ultra Magnus were sitting across from them, keeping their optics on the trio of younger mechs. Springer tensed when he heard the med bay door slide open, and Hot Rod and Drift shot to their feet before he could get a leg up.

Red Alert was standing in the door way. "Come meet your sparklings," she said.

"They're fine, and Optimus?" Drift asked.

"For coming early, they're doing as well as can be expected," she said. "So is Optimus."

The two followed the medic into the med bay, to Optimus' berth, where he was sitting up, holding a sparkling cradled in each arm. The twins were curled against his chest, in recharge. Optimus offered the femme to Drift and the mech to Hot Rod.

"I hope you each have a name picked out," Optimus said. "I had some in mind, but as we never had a chance to discuss them, I find myself at a loss."

"Emyria," Drift said. "It means 'ember' in one of the old Earth languages."

"Atreus," Hot Rod said. "Another ancient Earth name."

"I take it you two discussed names together?" Optimus said.

"More than once," Drift said. "We wanted it to be a surprise."

"A welcome one," Optimus said.

"Indeed," Ratchet said. "I don't want to interrupt, but Optimus, you need to get some rest, and these two need to return to their incubation pod until it's time to feed them again. You two can stay if you want, but don't keep him from resting. Understand?"

The two young mechs nodded in affirmation, each loathe to relinquish their children, but they knew Ratchet was right.

"I'll show you how to feed them later. I'll probably have to manually activate your feeding protocols if they don't come online naturally, but for now, Optimus has it covered. By the way, congratulations."


End file.
